SEEMONS | 



I 14* 

Ml 



Key. C. D. N. CAMPBELL, D. D. 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON. 
Cambridge : &tber£ttre $rrf& 
1872. 



THE LIBRARY 
I OF CONGRESS 



WASHINGTON 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
C. D. N. Campbell, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



CO^TTE^TS. 



i. 

PAGE 

Divine Husbandry, 1 

n. 

Rationale of Salvation, 11 

III. 

Essentiality of Dependence on God, .... 25 
IV. 

"Jesus Christ and Hem Crucified," 39 

V. 

Retrospection and Reform, 49 

VI. 

Human Sovereignty and Responsibility, .... 58 

vn. 

Doing God's Will, 71 

vm. 

The Mysteries of the Future State, .... 88 
IX. 

A Vindication of the Divine Justice, .... 102 
X. 



The "Grace of Jesus" and the "Love of God," . 122 
XL 

Inftmteness of the Divine Affection, .... 133 



iv CONTENTS. 

XII. 

PAGE 

Glorying in the Perishable, 145 

XIII. 

The Splendid Triumphs of Redemption, . . . 160 
XIV. 

Special Providence, .175 

XV. 

Reward of Consecration in Tesie and Eternity, . . 207 
XVI. 

Christ's Ambassadors, 240 

XVII. 

Ephemeral and Eternal Life, 251 

XVIII. 

God's Goodness and Man's Ungratefulness, . . .264 
XIX. 

The Prisoners of Hope, 277 

XX. 

The "Gentleness " of Christ, 288 

XXI. 

The Sun of Righteousness, 297 

XXII. 

Treasures for Eternity, 311 

XXIII. 

11 LOYE OF THE TRUTH " NECESSARY TO SALVATION, . 323 

XXIV. 

Faithfulness to Christ, 334 



SEKMCHsTS. 



i. 

DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 

11 Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in 
heart." — Psalm xcvii. 11. 

These words appear to be the vehicles of a vast 
weight of solemn and instructive thought. The 
eyes of the Seer seem to sweep, in the text, over 
an infinite range of being, duty, and destiny. First, 
an unlimited field is spread out before him ; then, 
the garners of an immortal seed are opened to his 
inspection ; next, the sower goes forth to sow ; and 
last of all, the tremendous harvest is reaped and 
possessed. 

The field comprises all the events of subordinate 
and created existence. These are necessary, for- 
tuitous,, or contingent. Necessary events are those 
between which there subsists a known infallible 
connection of causes and effects. In the material 
universe, such are the relations of the planetary 
system, and its effects upon our seasons ; the law 
of gravitation, which draws all ponderous bodies 
toward a common centre of attraction ; the laws of 
light, with all the effects of reflection and refrac- 
l 



2 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



tion ; the laws of heat, its action in radiation and 
its effects in expansion, contraction, and combus- 
tion ; and what is now known as the science of 
acoustics, by which vocal effects and the atmos- 
pheric vibrations produced by all sonorous bodies, 
may be directed, governed, and economized. In 
all these things, given the cause, and we know 
that an infallible connection binds to it a conse- 
quent effect. 

The social world is still more fruitful in illus- 
trations. In business, capacity, integrity, indus- 
try, and economy have a known infallible connec- 
tion with success. The dullest as well as the most 
gifted understands the law, and uses these qualities 
with all confidence and with more or less of effi- 
ciency, as reliable factors in the product of his own 
pecuniary support or splendid fortune. So, all 
professions, arts, and industries have their rules of 
success and failure ; which rules are simply the 
expression of known infallible connections between 
cause and effect. Such also are the operation, in 
the social world, of many kindred and congenial 
sympathies, prejudices, passions, antipathies, and 
even enmities. Every one understands that it is 
in his option to adopt such a course of conduct as 
shall arm the whole community against him ; or, 
on the other hand, he may as freely pursue such 
a course as shall win him many friends, or even 
render him universally popular. 

Such again are the laws of organic life, as dis- 
played in the physical functions of humanity. The 
rules of hygiene, the operations of disease and 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



3 



violence, the effects of medicines, physical pains, 
and sensual pleasures, constitute a class of events, 
between which and their causes there subsists, as 
every one understands, a known infallible connec- 
tion. 

And the same is true, to a limited extent, hi the 
world of mind. The aesthetic and emotional sus- 
ceptibilities of our common nature are the capital 
of the artist and the orator. By their appeals to 
our natural love of the subhme, the beautiful, and 
the pathetic, they touch and wake — according to 
the measure of their artist power — all the thrill- 
ing tones of feeling. We laugh, we weep, or we 
are rapt in an ecstasy of admiration, because these 
sons of genius know how to move us as they will. 
The intellect, like a fruitful soil, nurses and devel- 
ops infallibly all the germs of thought sown there 
by the wild wind of Chance, or the hand of patient 
Culture. Even the godlike Conscience and the 
fierce, unfettered Will may yet blind and manacle 
themselves. Between evil, and its effects in de- 
pravity — if once received into the soul and made 
welcome, — there is a known infallible connection. 

These all are necessary events, in a strict and 
philosophical sense, and comprise the first part of 
that vast field over which the eye of the Prophet 
Psalmist seems to glance in the text. 

The second great class of events are those which 
we term fortuitous or accidental. This class com- 
prises all those events between which there subsists 
an equally infallible, but unknown, connection of 
cause and effect. Such, for example, in the mate- 



4 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



rial world, are the fall of meteoric bodies, the 
deadly or destructive strokes of lightning, hurri- 
canes upon the sea and tornadoes on the shore, 
earthquakes and avalanches, the fall of trees and 
edifices, tidal waves, fires, mechanical and chemical 
explosions, as some of those from steam, gunpow- 
der, nitro-glycerine, and illuminating oils. In these 
cases, the connection between cause and effect is 
certain, but unknown, in the sense pf unforeseen ; 
inasmuch as we never think of the cause till we 
witness the effect ; or the cause is first published 
to us by the presence of the effect. 

The social world may furnish us again with a 
thousand illustrations of the power of accident or 
chance. In business, great gains and disastrous 
losses, and not unfrequently ultimate success or 
failure, are the effects of unforeseen causes. Some 
wild and sentient Energy — despite our skill and 
providence, as despite our negligence and incapac- 
ity — seems to seize, all at once, the helm of our 
affairs, and indicate the harbor of success, or dash 
us upon the rocks of failure. Under the operation 
of the same occult law, professional Merit shall lie 
long unnoticed and forgotten until it despairs of 
the prizes which it has fairly earned ; while Medi- 
ocrity or Unworth shall win and wear the rewards 
of Power and Virtue. Governments are aggran- 
dized or overthrown, and dynasties perpetuated or 
destroyed by the same means. Some of our rarest 
and dearest personal friendships, and our deadliest 
enmities, even, are the effects of unexpected and 
inexplicable causes. 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



5 



So — exceptionally, it is true, but still occasion- 
ally and really — health and sickness, infection, 
contagion, violence, and death, or unhoped for 
preservation and safety, come to us through the 
mysterious door of Chance. 

The same weird Influence often makes wild 
work with our sensibilities, quenches the kindling 
flames of resentment and affection, or fans both to 
a deadly and consuming intensity. The intellect, 
I believe, of most men owes more to chance than 
to voluntary culture. Like a shrub among shift- 
ing rocks, shaken ever and anon by volcanic forces, 
it is warped, and pressed and prejudiced and pre- 
possessed, until it loses all the symmetry and 
beauty which are the product of natural and regu- 
lar laws. Even the domain of the moral sense — 
the purely spiritual faculties — is invaded and sub- 
jugated, not unfrequently, by this strange Force. 
How many spiritual natures work out their own 
salvation, in accordance with God's revealed laws, 
and aided by the celestial forces within them, — 
compared with the number of souls that float as 
neutral material, idly down the stream of years, 
the sport of every eddy, and soiled by every foul 
thing which is drifted by the current of Chance 
within their reach, — it would be hard, it would be 
impossible to say. 

These fortuitous events — including all those 
between which there subsists an infallible but un- 
known connection of cause and effect — comprise 
another portion of that vast field of circumstance 
which the prophet seems to contemplate in the 
text. 



6 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



The remaining and final division of this field 
embraces all contingent events. These are known 
by the absence from among them of any real or 
settled connection of cause and effect. On these, 
we are to observe that mind is the only real agent 
or power in the universe. Even those dynamic 
forces, in the mechanical world, which we term 
powers, are so called only in a tropical and never 
in an accurate or philosophic sense. Now all those 
events which are the actions or motions of the Su- 
preme Mind, are of course purely contingent ; be- 
cause perfect independency and freedom are of the 
essence of the Deity. Every one understands that 
the pure, unmixed, spiritual, and' infinite Mind, 
which we term God, is the source of all power, in 
the form, or substance and manifestations, of sub- 
ordinate minds. Every one understands, also, that 
the Supreme Mind is the natural controller and 
regulator of those subordinate minds, or powers, 
which He creates or puts in motion ; and that all 
this control and regulation — being, in effect, the 
action of the infinite Mind — is purely contingent. 
Subordinate minds are simply limited agencies, 
communicated powers, miniature likenesses of the 
infinite Mind. 

We understand of the angels and of the devils, 
that they are superhuman, intelligent, and spir- 
itual beings. Each has individuality, a limited 
independency, separate and self-governed powers, 
peculiar and personal designs, and a sphere of free 
and untrammeled action. Now all these motions 
of superhuman minds, being free, are consequently 
purely contingent. 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



7 



We. understand, again, that human beings are of 
a mixed nature — partly animal and partly spirit- 
ual ; that the animal part is subject to decay and 
death, while the spiritual part is immortal, indi- 
yidual, personal, independent, free, and responsi- 
ble, — in short, in the image and likeness of God ; 
that this spiritual and divine part of man is the 
natural sovereign of his physical and material na- 
ture, and dominates it, always, with an absolute- 
ness proportioned to its self-assertion, or the volun- 
tary exercise of its native force ; that it is lord of 
the intellect, and endues it with riches or abandons 
it to poverty and neglect ; that all the wild forces 
of passion are subject to its sway, and submit, 
however reluctantly, to its enforced restraints ; and 
finally, that it is lord of itself, the conservator 
of its own forces, or their wasteful and suicidal 
destroyer. 

Thus all the motions of mind — supreme, su- 
perhuman, or human — are free, original, and 
uncaused ; and are in consequence properly and 
purely contingent ; and these constitute the final 
portion of that vast field of events, in which " light 
is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the 
upright in heart." 

The seed appropriated to this field is, appar- 
ently, of two distinct kinds : " light and gladness." 
But light, in the text, is evidently but a symbol of 
truth. Now truth, in man, is the relation of same- 
ness between things and his notion of them ; or 
it is the relation of sameness between his own 
notions, or thoughts, and his affirmations. The 



8 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



former is the matter of Divine revelation, in all its 
forms ; the latter is of the very essence of the 
character of the righteous ; and has had, certainly, 
since the world began, but one perfect representa- 
tion in humanity ; and that was in the person and 
character of the man, Jesus. The matter of reve- 
lation, or the relation of sameness between things 
and our notion of them, is sown, as seed, in the 
wide field of all events. In other terms, God con- 
descends to correct our natural misapprehensions, 
by representations of the truth as it really is. 
Thus are formed correct apprehensions of God, 
nature, and man ; sound judgments of Providence 
and Redemption, and right opinions concerning 
knowledge, wisdom, and power. In a word, the 
universe, as it is, is revealed ; but the revelation is 
in the form of seed, or germ-life, to be deposited 
in the field of events, there to quicken, expand, 
grow, and multiply until the harvest time. 

Gladness is simply the sentiment of complacency 
in exercise ; it is the substratum of all satisfaction : 
it is the earliest and most pervasive form of the 
feeling of pleasure. Under the stimuli of fortu- 
nate circumstances, gladness naturally rises into 
pleasure. Gladness is the easy effect of the har- 
mony of all our powers. "We are glad, sitting 
alone, at home ; but the unexpected presence of a 
dear friend, or the clear perception of a difficult 
truth, or the manifestation of Divine approbation, 
produces each its separate phase of pleasure. The 
first we term pathematic, the second intellectual, 
and the last spiritual. 



DIVINE HUSBANDEY. 



9 



This feeling of pleasure prolonged, becomes, in 
its turn, happiness ; as in the case of the contin- 
ued presence of dear friends, the progressive mo- 
tion of the mind in the apprehension of a long 
series of abstruse truths, or continuous Divine 
communications. 

From happiness, again, under more powerful 
stimuli, we rise to joy ; and joy prolonged becomes 
bliss. The transient ebullition changes to a sweet 
repose. The bubbles of joy, instead of bursting 
and disappearing, unite to form a radiant and 
beautiful hemisphere of enduring bliss. 

From bliss, once more, under still more powerful 
stimuli, we rise to rapture. The soul is uplifted,' 
as by an angel's wing, and dares, for a moment, 
the infinite of gladness. And this rapture, pro- 
longed, becomes finally ecstasy ; the very heaven 
of truth, love, and worship. 

This mingled seed of truth and gladness is sown 
on the broad field of events, for the righteous. 
But as to all doing there must be a doer, so to all 
sowing there must be a sower. This tremendous 
Husbandman is God. The whole vast enterprise 
of subordinate spiritual existence is his. He owns 
the field. He built it : the innumerable moun- 
tainous worlds, the golden chain which supports 
the universe of being ; the seas of space in which 
they lie and float, and turn from darkness unto 
day, and drift through the seasons varied round ; 
the fertile plains of angelhood and humanity ; all 
are the product of his creative hand. He fenced 
it with the impassable barriers of Omnipotence — 



10 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



with the strong chains of destiny — against all the 
" Dwellers of the Threshold." He prepared it ; 
enriched it with the precious blood of the God- 
man ; broke it with the ploughshare of the ages, 
and harrowed it with the stormy years. The field 
is his. 

And the seed is his as well. He took it from 
the diamond granary of the skies, measured it 
in the infinite bushel of love, and committed it to 
the soil with his own hand. Behold Him ! From 
the chambers of eternal silence and mystery, where 
He dwelt in the vast forever of the past, He comes, 
laden with the diamonds of truth and the rubies 
of gladness, that, sown broadcast on all the fields 
of creation, they may produce in the end a har- 
vest of immortal knowledge and felicity. 

The seasons are his : the wintry eons of the 
eternal past, the spring-time of angelic life, the 
human summer solstice, and the autumn judg- 
ment, are all his. 

Subordinate agents move by his direction, obe- 
dient to his will or limited by his power. An- 
gels are the first and chief tenants of this infinite 
Landlord. They farm vast tracts of the material 
and spiritual universe : to each hierarch a world, 
to each subordinate a soul. Men are under-ten- 
ants ; having, each, for his portion of the field, his 
own spiritual nature and as much of the social 
world around him as he is willing and able to 
cultivate. And Hell is the prison of all bank- 
rupt debtors ; the Marshalsea of the universe ; the 
wretched home of the suicides of fate and the 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



11 



spendthrifts of opportunity. But all — the angelic 
farmers, the human under-tenants, and the spirit- 
ual wrecks of perdition — all are his, and He holds 
them in his hand till the last day. 

For there must be a harvest, alike to complete 
the scene and to perfect the season. This implies 
a return in kind for the seed sown. The law is 
uniform and universal — through all forms of veg- 
etable, animal, and spiritual lif e, — like produces 
like ; like tree from tree ; like brute from brute ; 
from man, humanity ; from Satan, error and evil ; 
from God, purity and goodness ; so, ever, like from 
like. 

Truth, sown, reproduces truth ; as gladness, 
sown, reproduces gladness. Thus in that harvest, 
the return will be in kind, — substantial truth and 
real gladness. 

There will be also an appropriate return in quan- 
tity. The harvest will present as a reward for 
labor, " some thirty, some sixty, and some an hun- 
dred fold." 

The condition of periodicity will also be fulfilled 
in that harvest. " The season's close " takes on 
a meaning here commensurate with the rank and 
sphere of the husbandman. The human season 
will have one grand period, the angelic another, 
and the Divine must comprehend all. 

But some sheaves will be early ripe, — some 
return always coming in to the laborer. The 
Supreme and the subordinate agents, as they are 
always sowing, so are they, also, in one sense, and 
in some good degree, always reaping. Men on 



12 



DIVINE HUSBANDRY. 



earth, and angels in heaven, and God over all, are 
always receiving some substantial returns for all 
the truth and gladness which they scatter abroad. 

But the dawn of eternity closes the season of 
this world. Then conies the harvest-home ; when 
the loaded wain of earth shall be drawn by steeds 
of fire, upon the threshing floor of judgment ; when 
the sheaves will be cast down and pounded with 
the flail of Omnipotence, till the pure grains of 
truth and gladness are separated from the straw 
and chaff of error and suffering ; and then they 
shall be fanned by the breath of God, till they are 
pure from all evil, and heaped in the everlasting 
garners of the skies. 

And all this " for the righteous, for the upright 
in heart ; " that is, truth for the true, gladness 
for the glad, a harvest of truth and gladness for 
those who sowed the seed, and look for, and can 
appreciate the return. For the human righteous, 
shall the harvest be ; for those who receive all the 
truth and gladness God has given them in this 
world as a sacred trust — a deposit of seed — to 
be scattered abroad, sown as they have power and 
opportunity ; these shall receive a full and glorious 
and indefinitely multiplied return for all that they 
have done for their own spiritual culture, and for 
the help and comfort of their fellow-creatures. 
, For the angelic righteous, shall the harvest be ; 
for those who have kept their first estate, and are 
able still to thrust their hands into the granary of 
God, and take thence all the seed of truth and glad- 
ness that their celestial strength will enable them 



DIVINE HUSBANDKY. 



13 



to bear to the fields of their toil and endeavor ; 
for these there shall be a harvest commensurate, 
in its glorious products, with the capacity and fidel- 
ity of each. 

Finally, for the Divine Righteous, shall the har- 
vest be ; for God, the Everlasting Father, — who 
" so loved the world that He gave his only -begot- 
ten Son," in whom met infinite truth and gladness, 
— " that whosoever believeth in Him might not 
perish, but have everlasting life," — for Him shall 
the harvest of the redeemed be gathered from all 
the worlds of universal being. And for God, the 
Eternal Son, " Who hath loved us and redeemed 
us with his own blood, and made us kings and 
priests unto God," — lavishing for this purpose 
his whole Divine and human life to enrich the 
barren field of humanity, — for Him shall the har- 
vest be. And for God, the Holy Ghost, who 
begot us again, unto the life spiritual and immor- 
tal, and who " maketh intercession for us, with 
groanings which cannot be uttered," — for Him 
shall the harvest be ; for " Light is sown for the 
righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." 



n. 

RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 

"Repent ye, and believe the gospel." — Mark i. 15. 
" Repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ." 
— Acts xx. 21. 

Let it be supposed that, to an individual in the 
prime of life and maturity of mental power and 
culture, there were presented for the first time the 
doctrines of Repentance and Faith, as they are set 
forth in the Bible ; that it had been previously 
explained to him that the race was fallen, sinful, 
condemned, and altogether destitute of hope and 
help in itself ; that he had carefully read and 
deeply pondered the history of its divine redemp- 
tion by Jesus Christ, the only Son of God ; that 
he perfectly understood that this atonement was 
conditional, and that its chief and ultimate bene- 
fits depended upon human and individual volition ; 
and that now, when he came to inquire of the 
name and character of the condition upon which 
he might be saved, he were divinely assured that 
it consisted, to him as to all other men, of " re- , 
pentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord 
Jesus Christ." 

He would naturally next inquire of the nature 
of repentance ; and he would be again assured, if 
he believed the Bible, that it consisted in turning 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



15 



honestly from sin to righteousness ; from evil to 
good ; from the world to God ; in seeking God 
with all the heart ; in the formation of a single 
and pure intention, always, and in all things, to 
work his will ; in proposing to himself this, as 
the great and only end of life, and resolutely 
bending to its accomplishment all his powers ; in 
purity of intention, producing purity of conduct 
as a constant and ever-growing effect ; in a word, 
that true " repentance toward God " consisted of 
entire consecration to God. 

With this condition, let it be supposed that he 
professes himself satisfied, — as reasonable in it- 
self, honorable to God, and beneficent to man ; but 
ere he starts on this path, he would be further in- 
formed of the nature of that faith which is ex- 
pected — nay, exacted — from him as essential to 
justification. 

Inquiring yet again at the mouth of God, — for 
he will and ought to have no less solvent assur- 
ance, — he is told that saving faith is the complete 
trust of the heart in Jesus Christ, for present, con- 
tinual, and ultimate salvation ; that by faith Christ, 
in all his offices, is taken to the heart, — person- 
ally claimed, embraced, appropriated ; that, briefly, 
as repentance is essentially consecration, so faith is 
essentially appropriation. 

Now then he is ready to act. The case is before 
him. He knows himself undone : experience, rea- 
son, and consciousness corroborate the Divine as- 
surance of his ruin. Salvation is offered to him 
conditionally. He understands the condition, — 



16 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



approves it. There is no motive for delay. His 
present mihappiness, his fleeting life, the uncer- 
tainty of its continuance, the possibility that the 
present gracious offer may shortly be withdrawn, 
— every consideration of reason, safety, duty, 
urges him to haste. If there be good in the plan, 
if there be happiness and heaven in it, he needs 
its balm, he aspires to its glory. And if, on the 
other hand, it be a false and specious delusion, he 
should be in haste to find it out, and seek else- 
where for salvation. 

He resolves to accept the terms. He repents of 
all his sins. He pledges his soul's allegiance to 
Heaven. He renounces the world, and sin, and 
self. He intrusts all his interests to the hands of 
God. For liimself, he will labor earnestly and 
only for God's glory, and submit meekly and al- 
ways to his will. He binds himself, as the sec- 
ond party, to an eternal covenant of consecration. 
Thus emptied of self and the world, he is ready 
to be 44 filled with all the fullness of God ; " to 
claim, appropriate, Christ. 

And, like a lightning-heralded revelation from 
Heaven, He bursts into the void chambers of his 
soul ! Sorrow and sin and gloom and despond- 
ency flee from his Divine Presence ; pardon and 
regeneration and adoption and the witnessing 
Spirit, and peace and joy and love attend Him, 
and abide with Him, in the new-born Christian's 
heart. 

And now, to this man, repentance and faith as- 
sume a new and more distinct, and altogether a 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



17 



different aspect. They are no longer what they 
had seemed to him before, — cold, hard, dry, diffi- 
cult, dead conditions of good, — reasonable but 
painful, full of anguish but necessary ; to which, 
as a prudent man, regardful of his own safety and 
happiness, he felt bound to submit, albeit he sub- 
mitted with fear and trembling : he has found 
them warm and vital, easy and precious, instinct 
with Divine life and power ; living graces, wear- 
ing the hues of Heaven, and bringing to his tired 
heart a foretaste of its rest and joy. 

Neither are they separate and independent, as 
he had thought. He discovers in them an essen- 
tial harmony, a substantial agreement, common 
elements, a vital connection. 

Better instructed, — instructed out of his own 
heart's experience, as well as divinely taught, — 
he learns that an essential element, in all true re- 
pentance, is courage. To give one's self away, 
wholly and forever ; to renounce all right and title 
to temporal and spiritual possession ; to surrender 
the complete direction and government of one's 
destiny into the hands of another, though that 
other be Almighty ; to devote one's all of life and 
powers to his service, — a service involving, nec- 
essarily and professedly, spiritual poverty, conflict, 
self-denial, hardship, and danger : this, he sees, 
requires no small degree of that manly quality 
known as courage. How vast the risk ! Only not 
infinite. 

And this same quality, he discovers, in larger 
measure and more elevated tone, is a constituent 

2 



18 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



of that faith which has brought him salvation. It 
was a brave thing to give himself away ; but it is 
a braver thing to appropriate, even so far as mor- 
tal may, the eternal God I To say of the ever- 
lasting Father, " He is mine ; " of the uncreated 
Son, " He is my Saviour, Brother, Friend ; " of 
the omnipotent Spirit of the universe, " He is my 
Comforter, and dwells within my heart as in a 
temple ; " to reach out the hands of a human and 
finite faith, and grasp the Divine and hold it ! 
Though encouraged by every possible condescen- 
sion on the part of God, this, he sees, is an act of 
boundless spiritual daring, — the highest and bold- 
est emprise of which humanity is capable in this 
world. 

Looking more deeply into the essential nature 
of repentance, he finds, underlying this high cour- 
age, — this fearful risk, which has moved to such 
a degree his wonder and admiration, — the strong- 
est and sublimest confidence in God. He, a creat- 
ure of clay, an organ of sense, has risen so far 
above the sensual and earthly, as to commit the 
possession of his all, and the final arbitrament of 
his destiny, into the hands of a purely spiritual 
Being ! As he thinks of how this act of consecra- 
tion has brought the Invisible in sight, of how 
wonderfully to his appreciation it has magnified 
and glorified his goodness, how grand the light 
which it sheds alike upon his providence and grace, 
— he almost fancies that he has caught a glimpse 
of the infinite Reason which determined, and still 
upholds, the changeless conditions of salvation ! 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



19 



And this same confidence in God, tremendously 
increased and reaching the height of the true sub- 
lime, he finds again in faith. By this act, he has 
partaken of the divine excellency ; brought home 
to his heart something of the divine purity; 
claimed and received a title to everlasting felicity. 
He, the guilty rebel, has had audience with the 
King of kings, and has brought home a free par- 
don for all his offenses, and an assurance of royal 
favor and friendship ! Standing upon the brink 
of the real, and catching but a glimpse of the 
Spirit of the void, he has dared to leap out into 
that dread abysmal Unknown ; and lo ! the " Ev- 
erlasting Arms " have encircled him ! and he has 
lain upon the breast of boundless and ineffable 
Love ! and his heart has caught its glow, and his 
eye is lighted with its fires, and his hands shall be 
henceforth consecrated to its labors ! 

Underlying, still, this essential harmony in the 
elements of repentance and faith, he discerns be- 
tween them a vital comiection ; that they are inter- 
dependent, the one upon the other ; that they have 
no separate life ; that neither can exist apart from 
the other ; that while repentance may be first in 
the order of thinking, there is no appreciable inter- 
val of time between the moment of its ascendency 
in the heart and the moment of the exercise of 
saving faith; that immediately the grace of re- 
pentance is improved, God always gives the grace 
of faith ; that, pressing hard upon the retiring 
forces of sin, driven out by the act of entire con- 
secration, come the new and heavenly occupants 



20 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



of his soul, brought in by the act of complete 
appropriation ; in a word, that where repentance 
is not, faith is not ; and where faith is not, re- 
pentance cannot be. 

He feels that he cannot sufficiently admire this 
evidence of a wisdom all divine ; for by this fact, 
of the vital connection between repentance and 
faith, there is always, ready-furnished to his soul, 
a double test, intensely palpable to consciousness, 
of his own spiritual state. He can make his candid 
appeal on either ground, and the result is always 
un doubting conviction. " Is anything wanting to 
his complete consecration ? " he asks of Conscious- 
ness ; and if he honestly ask, she will never de- 
ceive him ; and if she answer, " Yes," he knows 
by consequence that his faith is the creature of im- 
agination and enthusiasm ; a myth and a delusion ; 
a " cunningly devised," but essentially devilish, 
semblance of that angel Grace. Again, he asks 
of Consciousness to testify to the existence in his 
heart of present saving faith ; and if she do not 
answer promptly and clearly, " Yes," he knows, 
by a similar consequence, that his repentance or 
consecration is imperfect. He cannot be conse- 
crated to God without believing savingly in Christ ; 
and he cannot believe in Christ, to the saving 
of his soul, without being entirely consecrated to 
God. 

And now it is that he learns from experience 
that repentance and faith have become living forces 
in his soul, — constantly, more and more power- 
fully interactive and reproductive. He remembers 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



21 



that his first true and deep repentance produced, 
as its necessary and immediate effect, his first ex- 
ercise of saving faith. Having given himself away 
to God in consecration, Christ instantly became to 
him, by appropriation, a more than equivalent sub- 
stitute. Having emptied his heart of the world 
and sin, its instant and intense longing drew Christ 
to its possession. Out of the depth of his poverty 
came the abundance of his riches. And this is the 
divine order in all spiritual things. Repentance 
made him " poor in spirit," and his poverty of 
spirit made him the heir in possession of the beat- 
itude : his was "the kingdom of Heaven." His 
repentance gave him the right, title, and possession 
of that faith which brought him salvation, and 
filled his heart with peace and joy. 

But again, no sooner did he receive grace to be- 
lieve " with the heart unto righteousness," than he 
found himself in possession of a force which reacted 
upon his consecration or repentance, broadening 
and deepening it every moment. Having received 
Christ, and found in Him the highest delight 
which his soul ever experienced, he naturally de- 
sires more of Him ; and in order to make room for 
this Divine Person, he must more and more com- 
pletely empty his heart of selfishness and sin. It 
is true that he had done this, to the best of his 
knowledge and ability, before ; but now, with the 
presence of the Triune God within him, there has 
come new light and added strength : the Light has 
shown him sin lurking in his heart ; the Strength 
has girded him to battle with the secret foe, and 



22 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



cast liim out. Thus his faith increases and purines 
his repentance. 

Again, this broader and deeper and purer conse- 
cration reproduces a larger and stronger and closer 
appropriation of Christ. In just proportion as he 
gives himself to God, God gives Himself to him. 
In just proportion to the perfectness of his conse- 
cration, is his right to the worth and use of the 
Atonement. In just proportion as he empties 
his heart of self and worldliness and sin, does 
Christ fill it with his own presence. Thus, his 
constantly deepening repentance produces a con- 
tinually strengthening faith. 

This added volume and power of faith reacts 
still again upon his repentance more effectually 
than ever, with each repetition. As the " Light 
of life," which Faith kindles in his heart, grows 
brighter and brighter, under the influence of the 
consecration which he brings to feed its flame, 
more and more of the imperfectness of his sacri- 
fice is revealed to Consciousness ; and he has but 
to ask and have grace for yet purer and deeper de- 
votion. 

He does not curiously ask if this process must 
not soon reach an end ; if the consecration will not 
soon be complete. O, there are deeps in his na- 
ture — of infirmity, if not of sin — which induce 
him to think sometimes that it may go on forever ; 
and that in the sweep of ages, too remote for mor- 
tal calculation, he may still be adding to that sac- 
rifice which he has here only begun to pile ! 

Repentance is like the fabled shield, of which 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



23 



one side was silver and the other gold. The silver 
side of repentance is sorrow for sin, but the golden 
side is consecration to God. Those who look only 
at the former, and imagine that is all, will never 
know what true repentance means. They will 
know nothing of Christian faith, love, peace, or 
joy. They will go mourning all their days, and 
never be delivered from their sins. But those who 
look at both sides, and fall in love with this piece 
of celestial armor, and then gird it on their souls 
for the whole battle of life, will certainly never lay 
it down in this world, and in all probability will 
bear it through all the conflicts of immortality. 
Indeed, there is nothing transient or perishable in 
the whole machinery of salvation ; nothing which 
is to be worn out and cast away. The saving and 
developing of spiritual life demands imperishable 
instrumentalities. Faith will never, as we some- 
times falsely sing, " be lost in sight ; " nor will 
hope ever be " swallowed up in fruition." These, 
with all other qualities and graces of the spirit, 
grow with gratification, and develop new strength 
and power with every fresh realization of their 
objects ; and so they will do to all eternity. If 
repentance might ever be completed and passed 
by, memory must perish, or we must cease to re- 
gret our remembered sins ; and spiritual acquisition 
must cease, or we must no longer render unto God 
our all. In reason and fact, then, the work of 
neither repentance nor faith will ever be finished, 
neither in this world nor in that which is to come. 
What St. Paul means, when he exhorts us to leave 



24 



RATIONALE OF SALVATION. 



" the principles of the doctrine of Christ, and go on 
to perfection," is nothing like this, but only that, 
instead of resting content with beginning the Chris- 
tian life, we should 44 grow in grace " from day to 
day, by the very same means by which our spirit- 
ual life was begun : and those means are, and ever 
will be, " Repentance toward God, and faith to- 
ward our Lord Jesus Christ." 

Therefore bid these angel graces, Repentance 
and Faith, welcome to your soul, and hold them in 
your heart forever. 



III. 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

"If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, 
then how canst thou contend with horses ? and if in the land of peace, 
wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in 
the swelling of Jordan? " — Jer. xii. 5. 

In the chapter from which the text is taken the 
prophet, discouraged by the difficulties and seem- 
ing inequalities of life, asks permission to reason 
with the Almighty of his judgments ; and hav- 
ing made his complaint, of the prosperity of the 
wicked and the delay of Heaven's vengeance to 
destroy them, God answers him in these words of 
reproof : "If thou hast run with the footmen, and 
they have wearied thee, then how canst thou con- 
tend with horses ? and if in the land of peace, 
wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, then 
how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan ? " In 
other words, " If thou art already discouraged and 
complaining under the burden of life's ordinary 
and inevitable afflictions, how wilt thou do when 
heavier trials shall come, and when the last trial 
of all shall overtake thee?" We trust that we 
shall not be thought fanciful or extravagant if we 
see, in these words, a deeper significance than the 
attendant circumstances alone would seem to give 
them; since, as we are divinely instructed, "no 



26 ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

Scripture is of any private interpretation," but all 
its words and events contain lessons for the instruc- 
tion of human nature, in all times and places. 
The broad general truth, then, which we conceive 
to be couched in these figurative words, is this : 
that the lessons of personal weakness and self- 
distrust, which men ought to learn from the events 
of ordinary life, should warn them of their utter 
inability to contend with the judgments of Heaven, 
either temporal or eternal. A truer truth, more 
strongly corroborated by every man's experience 
and observation of life, Revelation has not im- 
parted. 

Who can sustain, unaided by Divine grace and 
unwearied in the struggle, the burdens of life's 
common lot ? When we reflect that, in the expe- 
rience of the most fortunate of men, — the most 
nearly exempt from the common troubles of hu- 
manity, — there must be a vast amount of physical 
suffering ; that the head will sometimes ache ; that 
the strongest frame is neither invulnerable to dis- 
ease, nor insensible to its pangs ; that, amid the 
changing circumstances of even the happiest life, 
there must be a considerable proportion of physical 
discomfort ; that the luxuries and conveniences 
which exempt one from discomfort, become sources 
of annoyance and pain when, as must often be the 
case, they are temporarily beyond his reach ; that 
the regimen, which can alone render him indepen- 
dent of these things, is in itself a torture ; that 
utter weariness and exhaustion must succeed every 
severe exertion of his physical powers ; that lassi- 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 



27 



tude must often bind his active limbs, as with 
fetters of steel ; that there are weary days and 
sleepless nights of pain in store for even him ; and 
that, to crown all, he is doomed to a gradual 
decay ; that the tide of life must ebb slowly and 
painfully away ; that the senses must decline, little 
by little, their wonted cheerful service ; that man- 
hood's powerful arm, and vigorous limb, and lithe 
elastic frame, must wither to the palsied feebleness 
of age ; that the whole splendid human machine 
must languish slowly into dust; — when we re- 
member all this, and much more with which calm 
reflection will supply us, as inevitably included in 
the lot of that man who lives out his days, are we 
not led, with emphasis, to repeat the question, 
Who, unaided by Divine grace, can uncomplain- 
ingly submit to such a lot ? 

And when we further reflect that, in addition 
to the heavy load of physical suffering, every man 
must bear his just proportion of intellectual toil 
and travail ; that his apprehension is so dull, and 
his judgment so poor and feeble, that education is 
the task of a life-time, and even then must be 
left unfinished ; that common intelligence can be 
purchased but at the cost of years of painful 
labor ; that every path to signal intellectual excel- 
lence is blocked and hedged with obstacles whose 
removal will require the long continued and pain- 
ful exertion of all the powers of his soul ; that 
the mental discipline, which can alone constrain 
his faculties to faithful and efficient service, is 
a wearing, wearying weight upon the spirit, and 



28 ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

that if lifted for ever so short a time, his energies 
will escape, and must be again pursued and over- 
taken and subjugated; that he must resolutely 
close his eyes to the appeals of a world of beauty 
and bloom and song ; that, like the knights of eld, 
he must inure himself to spiritual hunger, and 
thirst, and cold, and vigil, before he is qualified 
to support the armor or wield the weapons of 
intellectual strife ; and that all this painful train- 
ing is but preparatory to a career of still more 
painful struggle and trial ; that on those dizzy 
heights whither, lured by the flash of her angel 
pinions, he essays to climb in search of Truth, 
there lurks many a deadly peril, and there awaits 
him many a wild, fierce conflict ; that there in sol- 
itude of soul he must contend single-handed with 
the demons of Doubt and Error ; that he must 
endure those spiritual throes, that intellectual tra- 
vail, whose, issue is humility or madness; and 
that, at last, if he be not lost, — if he do not fall 
from some of those giddy heights among which he 
has so long lingered into utter ruin, — he must re- 
turn, a broken-spirited and humbled man, thrown 
and baffled and beaten in his vain struggles — 
he must return to die ; when we remember that 
all these ills are in the intellectual portion of the 
worldly inheritance of the most gifted of men, 
may we not return, with added emphasis and 
intenser feeling, to the question, Who, unaided by 
Divine Grace, is able, without complaining, to 
bear all this ? 

And when, more deeply reflecting, we add to 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 29 



the physical pain and intellectual toil and trouble, 
which the most fortunate and gifted of earth 
may not escape, the heart-wounds which he must 
receive and wear ; when we remember that, until 
his heart is seared and scarred all over, it must 
writhe and bleed and ache ; that the delicate 
chords of sensibility, which in childhood lie open 
to every passing breeze of gentle influence, must 
be often rudely shocked and harshly jarred, until 
their tones of feeling are forever dead; — or if 
they cannot die, — if there be something so glori- 
ously immortal in his nature that torture cannot 
slay them, — at least till all their soul of sound 
swells into one life-long note of pain; that his 
wealth of affection must be lavished on some who 
will give him little or none in return ; that Friend- 
ship will sometimes prove false, and Love deceitful 
and changeful ; that his confidence will be often 
misplaced and betrayed ; that the boundless aspir- 
ings of his nature for purity and power, which 
would soar even to the Heaven of God, are barred 
by sin and chained by infirmity to the earth ; that 
his very efforts for the relief of his suffering kind 
will but serve to unveil to him more and intenser 
pain, which he cannot soothe or relieve ; that a 
thousand malignant influences will make war upon 
his noblest purposes, and defeat his most cherished 
plans ; that opposition and hindrance and hatred 
will often come from sources upon which he had 
confidently relied for cooperation and gratitude; 
that he must sometimes receive curses where he 
has lavished only blessings; that his thirst for 



30 ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

human appreciation and sympathy can never be 
satisfied ; that of all to whom he throws wide the 
door of his heart, but few will eyer care to enter, 
— and they but to gratify a profane curiosity and 
leaye the sacred place disordered, dismantled, and 
stained ; till, wearied and disgusted, and despair- 
ing of what he would, he closes and bars it up 
forever: when we remember, with remembrance 
heightened by bitter experiences, that all this is in 
the life of a man, is there not a note of anguish in 
the tones of the question, Who, unhelped of God, 
can bear it without complaining ? 

And when, still further reflecting, we call to 
mind that, in addition to all these outward ills, 
which the most fortunate, gifted, and blessed of 
men, in any worldly sense, is compelled to endure, 
he has an inward enemy, against whose fiery as- 
saults his soul can set up no defense ; that Con- 
science holds place within the citadel, and is 
piercing him perpetually with a thousand stings ; 
that if she seem to slumber for a while, it is only 
in seeming ; for she is all the time adding fuel to 
her fires and barbing her relentless arrows ; that 
she allows the tortured spirit absolutely no repose ; 
that she poisons the cup of worldly pleasure, till it 
becomes the loathing of his soul ; that she destroys 
all his bright illusions, and shows him a deadly ser- 
pent lurking beneath every flower towards which 
he extends his eager hand ; that she quenches, to 
his eye, the gleam of his shining hoards, with the 
memory of the blood and tears and wrong which 
bought them ; that she clouds the splendor of his 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 31 

equipage, and darkens the luxurious elegance of 
his home ; that she inscribes, in the handwriting 
of God, " Poverty of Heart " on all his riches ; 
that she sullies his proudest triumphs with disap- 
pointment and desolation of soul ; that she comes, 
in the flush of his political success, or in the pride 
of his social exaltation, to humble him to the dust 
with the assurance that he is a guilty and polluted 
thing ; that she withers every laurel which the 
world can bind upon his brow, and poisons all the 
caresses of popular favor; that she goads him to 
frenzy in every desperate and exciting struggle of 
his life, and then approaches him in every calm, 
unguarded hour with the terrible words, " Death ! 
Judgment ! Eternity ! God ! " and utters them 
again and again in the ear of his painfully con- 
scious spirit, until he trembles, and shudders, and 
writhes, and groans ; when we remember that he 
stands thus, all his life, between conflicting and 
always assailing fires ; with the world to torment 
him from without and conscience to torture him 
from within ; is there not solemn mockery of hu- 
man nature in the question, Who, unaided from 
Above, can uncomplainingly submit to such a 
lot? 

Yet these are common and inevitable events ; 
these are but "footmen " in the great race of life. 
Ah ! thou worn, hardened, worldly man ! thou 
hast had experience of these things. Thou hast 
groaned under the pangs of physical pain. Thou 
hast been sorely bruised and deeply wounded, in 
thine intellectual conflicts with Doubt and Error. 



32 ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

Thou hast learned, of Fickleness, and Falsehood, 
and Treachery, to distrust men. Thou hast felt 
the stings of Remorse and trembled at the voice of 
Conscience ; and, disguise it as thou wilt, thou art 
aweary; sometimes even sick at heart and tired 
of life. Hear, then, to-day the warning ques- 
tion of God : "If thou hast run with these foot- 
men, and they have wearied thee, then how canst 
thou contend with horses ? " If you cannot bear, 
without utter weariness, the common lot of man, 
how will you meet those special and severe judg- 
ments of Heaven which certainly await the im- 
penitent ? 

I remember me of one who impiously dared 
Heaven to this trial. Something there was, in his 
high place and regal power and appointments, 
which caused him to forget that he was but a man. 
He waited, and hardened his heart, and stubbornly 
refused to obey the divine command, until God's 
judgments had turned to blood all the waters of 
his fair land, and filled them with corruption and 
decay ; till loathsome and slimy reptiles leaped 
upon his table and in his bed ; until disgusting 
vermin filled every crevice of his palace, and every 
seam and fold of his royal robes ; till all the cattle 
of his fields were dead, and their decaying bodies 
polluted the air ; till his own person, and those of 
all his servants, were smitten with a most painful 
disease ; till a terrible hail destroyed man and 
beast and vegetation, while ethereal fires ran along 
the earth, and awful thunders rent the sky ; till a 
cloud of winged enemies, wide as the visible hori- 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 33 

zon, and darkening the heavens as they flew, came 
to destroy what the hail had left; till darkness 
which might be felt, and which no light kindled 
by human hand could resist or penetrate, covered 
the earth for days as with a pall, — as if his king- 
dom were dead and Heaven had coffined it in 
night ; until the returning light came, not in 
mercy but in judgment, to reveal to his startled 
eyes the clay-cold image of the heir of his crown 
and his throne, and to fill his ears with the cries of 
thousands mourning for their dead ; until he had 
rashly adventured, with the chivalrous thousands 
of his kingdom, into that splendid path between 
the divided waters which God had opened for his 
own people ; and at the wave of the prophet's rod 
an ocean was hurled upon their doomed heads ; 
and the watery grave of that hapless prince and 
his buried host, over which to-day rolls the angry 
surge and sings their wild requiem, is an everlast- 
ing monument of the resistless judgments of God. 
Ay, these were the steeds of Heaven, whose fiery 
force no mortal may resist. 

But events like these, you will say, belong to an 
age gone by ; are parts of the miraculous provi- 
dence of God, never revealed since that olden time. 
How came you to this conclusion ? When did God 
abdicate the throne of the universe, or lay down 
the sceptre of efficient providence ? Who told you 
that He had committed the government of the 
world to insensible and inflexible laws, and retired 
from the personal superintendency of its events 
and the control of its destiny ? Whence came this 

3 



34 ESSENTIALITY OE DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

theory of providence ? Not from Hirn ; for He 
everywhere in his sacred word declares its con- 
verse. Not from history ; for it is full of the tokens 
of his power, and the proofs of his interference. 
Not from our observation or experience of life ; for 
it is made up, in large part, of particular provi- 
dences ; and that man's spiritual eye is simply 
blind, who cannot see the hand of God in many, of 
the events which have delivered him from peril, or 
supplied his wants, or subjected him to trial. Not 
from reason ; for how can infinite Wisdom, Power, 
and Goodness turn away from the sentient creat- 
ures of its hand, and leave them without sympa- 
thy, protection, or discipline, in a world full of 
moral and physical evil and intellectual error, to 
grope in darkness, to stumble in blindness, the 
slaves of Chance and the sport of Hell ? How 
came we by such a theory of providence ? It is a 
part of the subtle infidelity which is cursing the 
world, and which has come to mingle its foul tide 
with some of the purest lessons of parental piety 
and love. No, God has not left the world, and 
never will leave it. For judgment and mercy 
alike, He is " the same yesterday, to-day, and for- 
ever." All life's events are the touches of a divine 
hand ; and whether they torture us with pain or 
thrill us with pleasure, they are one and all in- 
tended for our purity and well-being. 

And if — the question recurs — if, as a sinful 
man, you have grown weary under these kind and 
gentle touches of the Divine finger, how will you 
bear the full weight of that Almighty hand, when 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 35 



it is laid on you in judgment ? for, if you continue 
impenitent, laid on you it certainly will be, if there 
be truth in history, force in reason, or faithfulness 
in the pledge of God. How will you contend with 
disease and pain when God, because you have de- 
spised the riches of his long-suffering and good- 
ness, which would have led you to repentance, 
shall make your life one long, unending pang ? 
when He shall wither your strength, and paralyze 
your limbs, and rack you with physical anguish ? 
Do you say, " He will not do this, — He does not 
always do this ; some wicked men die suddenly 
and without pain." Then so much the worse for 
you. Do you covet their doom ? Would you be 
hurried suddenly, with all your sins black upon 
your soul, into the presence of God ? I am sup- 
posing Him to deal with you in mercy, and to afflict 
you in order to bring you to repentance. How 
will you bear that affliction ? Will you still wait, 
until your stubborn impenitence shall compel the 
Almighty either to send upon you a withering 
curse, or in a moment to hurl you into eternity ? 

Hitherto you have exulted in the possession, un- 
impaired or increasing in vigor and applicability, 
of the intellectual powers with which God has so 
wondrously endued you. Like the old poet, your 
mind has been a kingdom to you; and you have 
felt a pride almost regal in wielding the sceptre 
of its splendid capabilities. O, your brain ! your 
brain ! You have fancied it a rich, an inalienable 
inheritance. You have boasted publicly, or you 
have exulted silently, in the thought that, if ad- 



36 ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

verse fortune were to strip you of every worldly 
possession, it could not yet take from you those 
mental powers, by which you would be able to win 
anew earth's brightest and best gifts. But how 
will you do when God shall lay his hand upon that 
magnificent instrument, your mind, and rend, one 
after another, all its matchless chords away ? or 
break every string with one resistless blow ? You, 
who have gloried in your intellectual power and 
wealth, how will you endure mental imbecility, 
decay, madness ? Do you say, again, " He will not 
do this, — or He may not ? " It is true that He 
may not ; but it is equally true that He may. 
Earth's bedlams are fearful warnings ! And will 
you incur the peril ? or the still more deadly one 
of waiting, and consecrating your mind to sin and 
guilt, in the future as you have done in the past, 
until God's impatient hand shall snatch that in- 
strument of evil from time and toss it into eter- 
nitjr, and burden it with the discords of everlasting 
woe ? 

You have reveled heretofore — in your hours 
of relaxation from worldly pursuits — you have 
rejoiced in the happiness of home. There, if no- 
where else in this world, you have found Innocence 
and Purity ; and under the gentle caresses of their 
loving hands, your worn and tired spirit has grown 
young and fresh again. But how will you do 
when God shall visit, in judgment on your sins 
and impenitency, that home ? when you shall be 
called to stand, as others have stood, by a lonely 
hearthstone, with not one spark of love or friend- 



ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 37 

ship shining there ; with only the dead ashes of past 
and perished affections lying bleakly and coldly 
around you ? with all that you have ever truly 
and deeply loved covered with the earth-mold? 
when, orphaned, and widowed, and childless, and 
friendless, and forlorn, like a withered and blasted 
oak, you shall stand alone in life's barren field, the 
sport of every storm and the mark for every venge- 
ful bolt that hurtles through the social sky ? Or, 
if God should suffer these friends to linger by your 
side until you are taken, will it soften the anguish 
of the final parting that their tearful kisses accom- 
pany you to the door of your doom ? — that their 
beseeching hands and voices implore you to stay ? 
Will you wait till Heaven's vengeful sword shall 
sever every precious link that binds you to earth 
before you repent ? Will you wait until Con- 
science, long bound and silent it may be, endued 
in a moment with resistless strength, shall burst 
the bonds which confined her, and braid them into 
a "whip of scorpions," and lash your tortured spirit 
into a tempest of agony, before you repent ? Will 
you wait until your heart is desolate and broken ? 
Will you wait until your mind is cursed with im- 
potence or madness? Will you wait until your 
body is racked with pain and loathsome with 
disease ? Will you wait till the death-rattle is 
sounding in your throat ? Will you wait till the 
doom-storm has gathered and is about to burst 
upon your head ? Will you wait till the judgment- 
fires are kindled and ready to consume you ? Ah ! 
then you will have waited too long. No human 



38 ESSENTIALITY OF DEPENDENCE ON GOD. 

foot can contend, in swiftness, with these furions 
steeds of Heaven ; no human arm, in force, with 
the waves of that last cold, dark Jordan, whose 
icy spray may be falling, with numbing power, 
upon your heart to-day. 



IV. 



" JESUS CHEIST A2sD HBI CRUCIFIED." 

"For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus 
Christ, and him crucified." — 1 Cor. ii. 2. 

Jesus Christ symbolizes the Atonement. There 
are two necessary conditions of an atonement : for- 
feiture and an equivalent substitute. The forfeit- 
ure may be partial or complete, small or great ; 
but in either case, the substitute must equal or 
exceed it. Otherwise, the creditor cannot be sat- 
isfied, nor the injury repaired. If we say the 
creditor or injured party may, at his pleasure, 
be satisfied with less than an equivalent substi- 
tute for the forfeiture, we impair to that extent 
the idea of atonement, and deal with the offender 
at the expense of justice. In that case, the atone- 
ment is at best but partial and incomplete. 

Let us see if these conditions are met in the 
Atonement symbolized by the name of Jesus Christ. 
By the sin of the federal representative of our 
race, all human spiritual life was forfeited. The 
condition of that life was, and is, loyalty to God. 
This condition is essential ; and not arbitrary and 
accidental, as is evinced by the simple fact that 
loyalty to God and spiritual life are convertible 
terms. 

When man sinned, he ceased, spiritually, to five. 



40 "JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 

To this agrees the divine warning : " In the day 
that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die." 
Disobeying God, man ate ; and in that day all 
spiritual life was extinguished on earth. There 
reigned only spiritual death, — a dark presage of 
eternal death. But in relief of the gloom of that 
hour, infinite Beneficence devised and promised 
an Atonement. Upon that rayless spiritual night 
there broke one gleam of future hope. It was 
seen in the words, " The seed of the woman shall 
bruise the serpent's head." " The fullness of time " 
was not yet. Thousands of years must come and 
go ere the God-Man should be actually laid upon 
the altar ; but over all that dreary temporal chasm 
shone the light of this splendid promise, and 
bridged and illumined, for the eye and foot of 
Faith, a path to its coming Saviour. 

That Saviour was perfect God and perfect man. 
See here the fufillment of the condition of equiva- 
lence : as all human spiritual life was forfeited, so 
all Divine spiritual life was substituted : all ; " for 
in Him dwelleth all the fullness, of the Godhead 
bodily." It was as if a stream had sinned, and 
all its sources should come forward to atone ; as 
if the mist had offended, and the waters should 
become its suffering substitute ; as if a sunbeam 
darkened, and its parent source had hastened to 
redeem and relume it ; as if time were insolvent, 
and eternity had become its surety. There could 
be no question of the sufficency of the Substitute ; 
since it was God and man atoning for man. 

We see, thus, how one could atone for many ; 



"JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 41 

because the dignity of the one guiltless Offering 
was in grand excess of the dignity of human na- 
ture, and because the capacity for suffering of the 
one sinless Victim was in terrible excess of the ca- 
pacity for suffering of the whole sinning race. 

We see, again, in this Atonement, an explana- 
tion of the ancient mystery of the blood-offering ; 
because blood was, and is, and ever will be the 
double symbol of suffering and of death ; and suf- 
fering and death only can atone for sin. This 
truth is illustrated by every statute in the whole 
organic law of our being. Whoever violates, suf- 
fers — dies — is the inevitable decree. To suffer 
death was the doom of Adam for original sin ; to 
suffer death, our doom for actual sin ; from both, 
the Atonement saved him and saves us, by pro- 
viding for us a sufficient Substitute. 

If we ask, — as we must, or silence the very in- 
stincts of our intellectual nature, — " How could the 
sufferings of one atone for the sins of all ? " we are 
forced to reply only by aggregating and condens- 
ing — in a word, by heaping the whole volume of 
the world's merited anguish upon a single sinless 
sufferer. But human nature is not strong enough 
to bear such a load ; and therefore was God made 
man ; therefore there was infused into the human 
soul of the Offering a Divine energy and strength 
to enable Him to sustain the weight of all our woe. 
Is this unphilosophical ? The very converse. The 
insensate, half -brutal man is scarcely conscious of 
what tortures a finer and more delicate organism. 
Can we not, then, conceive of an almost infinite 



42 "JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 

refinement and quickening of sensibility ? Can we 
not still further aggravate, in our imagination, 
every sense and perception of physical and mental 
pain, in this fine organization, by all the resources 
of unlimited Power ? Then name this Being, 
Jesus Christ, and we have the symbol and sub- 
stance of the Atonement. Oh ! " the chastisement 
of our peace was upon Him ! " " Who his own 
self bare our sins in his own body ! " " With his 
stripes we are healed ! " 

What other light, than that which shines from 
this exposition, can pierce the mystery of his Pas- 
sion? How else can we explain that agony of 
apprehension, which convulsed Him in the Garden, 
and stained the earth on which He knelt with the 
crimson tokens of its power ; and even wrung from 
the pitying Heavens an angel minister of comfort 
and strength? Other men have suffered death 
by fingering torments, without such exhibitions of 
dread. The Eastern stoic, the Western savage, 
and the Christian martyr, have shown a fortitude 
which has defied the extremes of ingenious cruelty. 
Was our Saviour less firm than they ? No. It was 
because the tremendous aggregate of all the pains 
justly incurred by every individual, — of thousands 
of millions, both in time and eternity, — was piled 
on his devoted heart ! What wonder that He 
shrank, when, superadded to all earthly human 
woe, . there came, to feed upon his anguish the 
thirsty fires of Hell ? Therefore, " Being in an 
agony, He prayed;" therefore, "His sweat was, 
as it were, great drops of blood ; " therefore, all 



"JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 43 



the fullness of the Godhead, dwelling in Him 
bodily, was needful to sustain Him in being during 
those three dreadful hours \ in which were concen- 
trated all the pains of earth and hell, of time and 
eternity; and therefore, when those hours were 
expired, and the Atonement perfected, and the in- 
dwelling Divinity departing, He had only space to 
cry, " My God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken 
me ? " and to add, in a death-cadence, the-response, 
"It is finished ; " ere the superincumbent weight 
of that mountain of torture crushed out of the 
Son of Man the last quivering pulse of life. " His 
visage was so marred, more than any man, and his 
form more than the sons of men," and his " ves- 
ture dipped in blood." 

This Atonement symbolizes, exemplifies, and 
glorifies humility. We have first a Divine ex- 
ample : the Son of God " humbled Himself, and 
became obedient unto death." No other example 
of humility is comparable with that afforded by 
the voluntary stoop of authority. Were an abso- 
lute monarch to descend from his throne, and sub- 
mit to the control of his subjects, it would be a 
wonderful example of humility. How much more 
striking when infinite Authority becomes abject, 
penal, and deadly servitude ! Precisely such, is 
the example given ; and the result glorifies the 
grace. Man is endued with the authority of God. 
" To Him every knee shall bow." He hath sat 
down in the throne of his Father. He ever liveth 
and r eigne th. 

This Atonement symbolizes, exemplifies, and 



44 "JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 

glorifies sacrifice. This term should always pre- 
serve, in the mind of the Christian, its double sig- 
nificance. It implies an offering to God and a 
benefit to man. Whenever we benefit man, we 
present also a sacrifice to God ; and the sacrifice 
is acceptable to God in proportion to its personal 
cost to us. The example furnished by the Atone- 
ment is in apt and powerful illustration. The 
Divine Law was infracted, and the transgressor 
ruined. A single act must vindicate the Law, 
and redeem the sinner. A ransom must be paid. 
But who in the universe is able and willing, at 
once to satisfy an infinite Divine demand, and 
supply an infinite human want ? Behold ! from 
the chambers of his own eternity issues the An- 
cient of days with the price in his hand ! That 
price is all the difference, in seeming, between God 
and man. Omnipotence must become, to all 
appearance, impotence ; Omniscience, ignorance ; 
glory, obloquy ; self -existence, mortality. Did 
he pay it? The records of Heaven tell of the 
Sent of God. The records of earth tell of a shin- 
ing retinue which attended to this world a ce- 
lestial stranger, and celebrating his incarnation 
with songs of joyous greetings to its inhabitants, 
and then, vanishing in the darkened skies, were 
seen no more. Then follows the life of the won- 
drous Child, and of the still more wonderful Alan. 
Where was the glory of the Godhead then ? If it 
be said, it was seen in his miracles, I answer, nay ; 
for his disciples were his equals in that power. 
Where were the tokens of omnipotence when He 



"JESUS CHKIST AND HIM CKUCIFIED." 45 

knelt prone and helpless, in his great agony, and 
prayed, " If it be possible, let this cnp pass from 
me ? " when He was arrested by an armed mob ? 
when He was condemned and delivered to the scoffs 
and jeers of the soldiery ? when He was scourged, 
and spit upon, and mocked, and smitten in the 
face, and crowned with thorns ? when He bent, 
even to falling, under the burden of his own cross ? 
when, helpless among his executioners, He was 
seized and extended on the instrument of torture ? 
when his hands and feet were nailed to the pitiless 
wood? when He hung for hours, a spectacle to 
men, and angels, and devils ? when those who 
passed by railed on Him, and wagged the head in 
mockery, and said, "If thou be the Son of God 
come down from the cross ? " Where was omnip- 
otence when all this was done to God, and "He 
answered not a word? " Where were the signs of 
omniscience, during the helplessness, ignorance, and 
incapacity of his infancy and childhood, and when 
He said, "The Son knoweth not?" Where was 
his glory, when the scornful and indignant repro- 
bation of a nation shouted " Crucify Him ! Crucify 
Him ! " Yes, He paid the price. Divinity was 
abased, in seeming, to humanity. 

And the result, again, glorifies the grace. Man 
becomes as God. Divinity has not scorned and 
cast off forever its humble companion. Widowed 
Humanity, with the ashes of the tomb upon her 
brow, has lain for days and nights senseless, pulse- 
less, and cold ; but the prophetic hour strikes, and 
her dull ear hears and owns the voice of the com- 



46 "JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 

ing God. A mighty angel attends his steps, be- 
fore whose touch human and material obstacles 
sink down. Godhead reclaims its human mate ! 
The grave becomes a bridal chamber, and types 
the resurrection of all who are kindred to the 
bride ; and forth from the tomb issue the Divine 
Pair, so wondrously united that none can say which 
is God and which is man. Impotence becomes as 
omnipotence ; ignorance, omniscience ; obloquy, 
glory ; and mortality, self -existence. 

The Atonement symbolizes, exemplifies, and glo- 
rifies love. The essence of this Divine sentiment 
is benevolence ; and all on earth which passes by 
its name, but lacks this grand essential, is but a 
base and spurious counterfeit. To love, is to bless. 
Take away from any phase of human affection 
this golden element, and what remains is the vile 
dross of selfish passion. We have in the Atone- 
ment a Divine example of love. Man is bankrupt. 
No mere pound of his flesh is in the bond, but soul 
and body for time and eternity. The inexorable 
creditor is Right ; and He will, he can, abate not 
one jot or tittle of His immense demand. In- 
finite Solvency beholds, pities, loves ; and assures 
to Justice the full equivalent of his claim. Here, 
on the part of God, is an infinite gift bestowed, 
and on the part of man an infinite benefit realized. 
If it be objected that, where the resources are ex- 
haustless, the greatness of a gift argues nought for 
the love of the giver, since He cannot miss what 
he bestows ; we reply, first, no man, however large 
his means, ever missed what he bestowed in pure 



11 JESUS CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED." 47 

charity ; and, secondly, where the gift touches the 
person of the giver, however vast his riches, the 
objection is without point. The latter is the very- 
case in hand. God gave God and man to redeem 
man. God left his throne in heaven, and came 
to earth on an errand of love to man. The intense 
sympathy of the Divine nature voiced itself in hu- 
manity ; and in Jesus Christ we have the living 
and enduring expression of his Father's love for 
us, — a love so mighty that it heaved an era into 
the annals of creation. How else so touchingly 
could God express his love for man ? He could 
not weep, surfer, die, because He is God ; but He 
created a being who could, shut up his ubiquity in 
the walls of humanity, and dwelt for years, like 
the genii of Eastern story, shorn apparently of his 
Divine attributes, that man might see, in the tears 
of Jesus Christ, the grief of God ; in the sufferings 
of Jesus Christ, the sympathy of God ; and in the 
death of Jesus Christ, the love of God. 

The result again glorifies the grace. The love- 
freighted soul of Christ was the venture ; the love- 
kindled souls of the millions redeemed by Christ 
are the return. Heard ye of a great multitude, 
whom no man could number, who had washed 
their robes, and made them white in the blood of 
the Lamb ? These are the harvest, sprung from 
that one seed of Divine love which God planted in 
the soil of humanity. 

These three symbols of the Cross are one ; and 
united, type and epitomize the true philosophy of 
life. " He that humbleth himself shall be exalted ; 



48 "JESUS CHRIST AND HDI CRUCIFIED." 

and he that exalteth himself shall be abased." 
" Give, and it shall be given you again ; " with- 
hold, and " it tendeth to poverty." "It is more 
blessed to give, than to receive." " He that will 
save his life shall lose it, and he that will lose his 
life for my sake, shall find it." " A man that 
hath friends must show himself friendly." He that 
will be loved, must love. Above all, he that will 
realize God's saving love in Christ, must give his 
heart to God and his life to good. 

Therefore the Apostle's determination to know 
nothing among the Corinthians save Jesus, and 
Him crucified. It was enough to know. It was 
the air of life. It was worthy of the heart and 
head of the great Apostle of the Gentiles. What 
worthier or nobler object of human devotion can 
thought suggest ? Wealth, honor, pleasure, the 
world's prizes, — how they sink into their native 
insignificance when held up for a moment beside 
the Cross ! 

Come, then, to Jesus, with your affluent intellect 
and fiery energies ! Here are room and scope for 
all. Come, sad heart, with wealth of wasted love ; 
come, and pour your treasures here. Come ! and 
all will be saved, both here and hereafter. Stay ! 
and all will be lost, both in time and eternity. 



v. 



RETROSPECTION A>T> REFORM. 

A XEW TEAR'S SEKMON. 

As tlie traveller, in a mountainous country, 
pauses ever and anon when his foot wins some new 
height, to look back upon the distance which he 
has achieved, and searches eagerly for the most re- 
mote point in the horizon which he remembers to 
have passed, and, when he finds it, is but half cer- 
tain whether it be earth or cloud, and following 
with his eye every intervening hill-top which marks 
his progress, and dwelling mentally a moment upon 
each, reaches at last the nearest height, and thence 
traces, in all its deviations, that winding path 
through the separating valley which led him to 
where he now stands, — so does it become us, stand- 
ing to-day, by the grace of God, upon one of the 
mountain peaks of life, to look back upon our past, 
and gather, from the failures and errors which mar 
the retrospect, that wisdom of repentance of which 
alone is born the purity of purpose which can both 
guide and gild the future. There are high points 
in every life ; whence backward over the past mem- 
ory darts, and forward to the future springs joy- 
ous and exulting hope ; and such we have ventured 
to rank this festival season, in which the birthday 

4 



50 RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 



of the world's Redeemer is greeted with acclama- 
tions from the lips of the world's Childhood ; and 
in which the Old Year dies and is waked and bur- 
ied by the jubilant nations, holding high carnival 
over his grave ; and the New Monarch of the 
seasons puts on his ice-jeweled diadem, which 
Spring's warm breath shall melt away only to 
recrown him with her flowers; which Summer's 
sultry suns again shall wither, but to show her 
wealthier and more substantial largess ; and Au- 
tumn's gorgeous dyes and bounteous harvests shall 
fill him with plenty, and cover him with glory ; 
till again, in the sad, sad end, the tears of the 
dying Year shall turn to ice-gems on his pale and 
withered face. 

Standing thus to-day upon the dividing ridge of 
the past and future, and elevated, by the scenes 
and circumstances which surround us, to a point 
of observation and reflection which commands on 
either hand an extended view of life, let us look 
backward upon the course which we have already 
run. Far away in the dim distance, where the 
earth of memory seems to touch the sky of imagi- 
nation and form the horizon of our past, there 
rises, indistinctly, mistily, dreamily, and but half 
discerned, a little hillock which we term Child- 
hood. At the first effort, we can hardly see it ; 
but the mental eye, having found and fixed it, and 
looking through the magnifying lens of recollec- 
tion, its proportions gradually enlarge, and its out- 
lines become distinct. It is peopled with ghostly 
forms that have long been slumbering in the dust. 



RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 51 

Father and mother, sister and brother, playmate 
and home, — we see them again, as we saw them 
in life's beautiful morning-tide, when the dew was 
on the flower, and the rising sun of hope threw a 
glory over all. Our little griefs and cares, our lit- 
tle joys and sorrows, our little hopes and fears,- — 
how distinct and vivid they appear to-day, as we 
look lingeringly and regretfully back upon our in- 
nocent childhood ! Oh ! could we have dreamed 
then that we should ever become what we are now, 
— the hardened, worldly men ; the vain, frivolous 
women, — should we not have knelt down there, 
in the purity and freshness of our life's morning, 
and humbly asked of God the grace of an early 
death ? 

But nearer and more distinct to Memory's eye, 
heavy with a ranker verdure, and bright with a 
richer beauty, and bathed in its own " purpurea! 
light," rises the hill of Youth. How the pulse of 
the weary pilgrim on life's journey bounds, as he 
looks back to it once more ! The flowers of Fancy 
that bloomed there, — the very memory of their 
beauty and fragrance dizzies us now, — what won- 
der that they intoxicated us then ? The jewels 
of Imagination that sparkled there ! — even now 
they seem better worth than all the coarser treas- 
ures we have won, — why should we not have 
deemed them, then, life's dearest and richest gems ? 
The gorgeous bow of Hope that spanned that fair 
horizon ! whose seven-fold dyes of love, and friend- 
ship, and truth, and power, and fame, and glory, 
and immortality seemed brighter and steadier than 



52 



RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 



the sun, — how could we have dreamed, then, that 
one after another they would fade away, and leave 
the whole sky of our lives leaden-hued and dark 
and ominous, as it has frowned so often since, — 
as it frowns, perchance, to-day ? The high, glad, 
bounding health which then coursed in our veins 
and made it joy to be, has vanished from our blood, 
and left its pulses languid and feeble and slow ; or 
if they quicken, it is under the touch of the fiery 
scourge of pain. Our generous confidence has 
withered and hardened into a cold and settled dis- 
trust. Our lofty purposes are abased to pelf, or 
dirty with the sensual mire in which we daily wal- 
low. Our noble aims are dwarfed and contracted 
to the mean circle of our selfish cravings. Our in- 
nocence is lost, our purity soiled, our hope disap- 
pointed, our promise broken, and our whole life 
degraded and debased. Alas ! that in looking for 
our lost Youth, we should have to strain our eyes 
upward, as to a far and almost forgotten height, 
from which we have fallen to become the bruised 
and broken creatures which we are to-day, halting 
our sad way to the grave ! 

But nearest of all to where we now stand, rise 
the memories and hopes of one year ago. There 
we stood on that last annual height which our feet 
ever pressed, and rejoiced and exulted, or mourned, 
repented, and prayed, as we do to-day. Then, 
too, we looked backward over the past, and for- 
ward to the future. We thought of our sins and 
follies, our fading hopes and feeble purposes, our 
wasted hours and waning lives ; and there and 



RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 



53 



then, it may be, we solemnly resolved to redeem 
the future. With the earnest purpose to be better 
men and women, we started upon the path of the 
past year, and by the mercy of God have won an- 
other annual height. From this point we can look 
back over the valley which lies between us and 
one year ago, and mark every track which our feet 
have left. Alas ! it is not the straight and narrow 
path which we resolved to tread. A wandering, 
zio-zas^ course arrests the eve. We marvel how 
soon and often we left the line of right. There 
stole Temptation to our side ; and we paused and 
dallied and yielded, and lost much precious time, 
and won a load of guilt, whose weary burden we 
have borne till now. There, from that dark thicket 
which borders the path, sprang the tiger Wrath to 
our bosom ; and we bade him welcome, and hied 
him on to that fierce quest in which we hunted 
human life. It may be, God disappointed us. and 
hid the prey from our eyes ; it may be, our hands 
are red to-day with the stains of murder ! There 
joined us Avarice, with Stealth and Rapacity led 
in leash by his side ; and we suffered him to bear 
us company till our hands were polluted with his 
spoils, and our souls stained with his wrongs. And 
the bribes ! They are on us to-day, and the 
wrongs are unrepented to-night. There, again, we 
stopped and danced away, in Folly's maze, the 
precious hours which were charged with our im- 
mortal destiny ; and they are lost to us forever, 
with all then treasures of opportunity. We shall 
miss them when we come to die ; we shall miss 



54 RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 



them when we come to render to God our account 
for time. There, again, we turned aside to water 
with our tears a new-made grave, whose envious 
mold shut forever from our longing eyes on earth 
the form of a child, a parent, a companion, a friend. 
O ! there, by the grave of our beloved dead, we 
knelt, with passionate tears and cries wrung from 
our heart's deep anguish, and gave ourselves to 
God, The earth is yet fresh and rounded where' 
they lie, and we have forgotten them and our vow. 
Or, it may be, we have remembered both ; and 
while the tears will come to our eyes, as these sad 
fountains of grief are touched by the wand of 
Memory, they are tears of joy and hope, not less 
than of sorrow and regret. All this we see in the 
valley which lies between us and one year ago. 
We have looked upon the past, — its faults, follies, 
sins, and griefs. Let us turn now to the future. 

Before us lies the valley of another year. It is 
covered with a dense mist, which shrouds every 
object from our sight. We know not, we cannot 
know, what lies within that vale. It may hide our 
joy or sorrow, our loss or gain, our vice or virtue, 
our innocence or crime. It may be but a few steps 
before us, concealed from our eyes, it hides our 
own graves, or the graves of others dearer to us 
than ourselves. In vain we peer eagerly forward 
with our whole heart in our eyes. Our startled 
souls cannot pierce the misty future. It is a dark, 
frowning, and uncertain path. It abounds with 
deadly perils and heart-breaking woes. Must we 
tread this dark, uncertain, dangerous way alone ? 



RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 



55 



Is there no guide, no clew, no help, no hope ? Is 
God's frail human child thus abandoned in the 
dark by its divine Father ? Nay, nay ; He sends 
One to its relief who has trodden every step of 
the perilous road ; who has felt its every sorrow 
pierce his own bosom ; who knows every danger 
of the way, and is able to guard and shield from 
all ; who loves God's human child with a love 
stronger than death ; its elder Brother, too, — bone 
of its bone, flesh of its flesh, blood of its blood, 
heart of its heart, soul of its soul; with divine 
love and power, mingled with human sympathy 
and tenderness, to qualify him for the oflice of 
Guide and Saviour, — Him hath God the Father 
sent to take us lovingly by the hand and lead us, 
past all the toil and grief and danger, up to the 
Celestial Heights, whence, looking back, our whole 
earthly course will he open to our vision, and our 
whole immortal future shall hide from our hopes 
only their supernal fruition. 

Our errors, sins, follies, and sufferings in the past 
have all arisen from the want of such a Guide ; 
and this want has been the effect of our own sad 
error. Years ago, in childhood, the Good Shep- 
herd came to our side and solicited our confidence, 
— would have borne us in his arms past every 
deadly harm which has since wreaked its anguish 
on our hearts ; but we would not. We thought 
that we could do without the Saviour in our child- 
hood, and we turned away and strove to walk 
alone ; but, at the first step, we stumbled and fell, 
and lost our innocence, and have never been able 



56 RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 

to find it again, though we have sought it often 
and long, and regretted it with bitter tears. 

And again, in youth, came to us the Heavenly- 
Guide, with his sad, reproachful eyes, and warned 
and entreated us, by our lost innocence, and the 
deadly perils which lay in our path, and the ful- 
fillment of our youth's bright promise, and our 
hope of happiness and heaven, to accept of his 
kindly services, and suffer him to direct our steps ; 
but still, again, we would not. We exulted in our 
youth, we reveled in our untried powers. We 
wanted adventure, peril, worldly pleasure ; and we 
felt sure, if we followed Christ, that He would 
guide us far from these. So we sent Him grieved 
away, and started on our blind path alone. Alas ! 
what serpent vices stung us, and we wear their poi- 
son yet. What devilish passions beset us, and we 
let them in ! and they made hell in our hearts, 
and run wild riot there to-day. And we have 
been wretched and miserable and disappointed; 
and we have learned to look for evil rather than 
good; and thus bruised, and weary, and travel- 
stained, and desponding, we have reached the 
summit of another annual hill. And here, again, 
there meets us the sad and holy Presence of the 
Crucified ! His head wet with the frozen dews of 
our earthly night, his eyes tearful with, human 
sympathy, his hands and feet and side bleeding 
afresh as he draws near us, — He comes and stands 
by our side once more. Here, on this high point 
of time, they meet again, — our Saviour and our 
souls. It may be, they will meet no more till we 



RETROSPECTION AND REFORM. 57 

stand wrecked, ruined, lost, before his judgment 
bar. But He is here now. The shadow of his 
presence falls on every heart and thrills it. Speak 
to us, O Saviour ! in that voice which called the 
dead to life, and quicken our dead hearts to hear 
and obey thee. Or let thy five bleeding wounds 
— " poor dumb mouths ! " — plead with us till 
they shall prevail ! For our own souls He pleads. 
Let us give them to Him, lest they die. Die ! they 
have been dying all these years ; and our sufferings 
were but the death-pangs of our spiritual nature. 
Are they fainter and fewer than of yore ? Then 
are we the nearer dead, — the nearer damned ! 
One more fall, and we shall rise no more. Let us 
haste to take the hand of this kindly and gentle 
Saviour, held out to some of us for the last time, 
and follow Him confidently through the dark and 
unknown future, — through the gloomy shadows 
of the valley of death, where his rod and staff 
shall comfort us, — till we come, at the last, to the 
gates of pearl, and see them lift up their everlast- 
ing heads, that we, with the King of Glory, may 
go in. 



VI. 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 
" Sow to yourself in righteousness, reap in mercy." — Hosea x. 12. 

The great law of cause and effect runs through 
both the material and spiritual worlds ; with this 
difference, however, that, in the former, it is abso- 
lute, unconditional, and fatal ; while in the latter 
it is subject to many changes and fluctuations, 
owing to the introduction here of the almost in- 
finitely subtile, ethereal, and incalculable spirit of 
subordinate and dependent moral agencies. Of 
these subordinate and dependent moral agencies 
we are acquainted, practically, with but a single 
species ; and that our own. True, we have infor- 
mation concerning the existence, habits, and some 
of the powers of others ; we have all heard of 
angels, and of devils ; and we have no rational 
doubt of their existence ; but we have never seen 
them, — never held sensible intercourse with them ; 
and our knowledge concerning them, on all points 
save their simple being, is defective. 

With regard to ourselves, our native conscious- 
ness of moral freedom is confirmed by our whole 
experience and observation. Man's sphere of 
moral liberty is as certainly large as it is certainly 
not unlimited. He may interfere with and con- 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 59 



trol many effects which proceed from the First 
Cause. The germ, which would otherwise produce 
a mighty oak, may be crushed by his foot, or 
plucked up by his hand, or burnt with fire, through 
his agency, and the original purpose of its creation 
he utterly subverted. The stream, which would 
otherwise have flowed on for centuries, or forever, 
in its accustomed channel, may be diverted from 
its course, and made to turn his mill, or waft his 
commerce by a nearer path to the sea. 

The limit, however, of man's agency, in the 
material world, is easily defined. He soon comes 
to find things too hard for him. He may thwart 
or destroy a single natural effect of Divine Power ; 
or a whole class of effects. He may even root out, 
from the globe, an entire species — human, brute, 
or vegetable. But he can neither produce the most 
minute nor control the mightiest. He may level 
or tunnel the mountain ; but he cannot stop the 
mouth of the volcano. He may construct and fill 
with water an artificial pond or lake, or drain dry 
a natural one ; but he can neither make nor mar 
an ocean. .He may fence the rain from his hearth ; 
but he cannot bid it fall upon his field. He may 
shelter himself from the tempest ; but he can nei- 
ther cause, control, nor measure its influence. All 
this is wisely ordered ; that, feeling his freedom 
and power, and being tempted by that feeling to 
a wild and ungoverned license of action, he may 
feel, also, his impotence and dependence, and be 
restrained by this feeling within the limits of 
virtue and conservatism. All great laws and sud- 



60 HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 

den ' changes are above him ; for he is the little 
child of a Divine Father, the lighter articles in 
whose earthly house are placed within his reach ; 
and he is free to use them as he will, in order to 
try his disposition and develop his character ; while 
the heavier furniture is beyond his strength, and 
the doors are opened and shut only by the Parent's 
hand. 

But we said that the law of cause and effect 
extends to the spiritual world. Let us understand 
precisely how and how far. He who built the 
earth, and endued it with warm and kindly suscep- 
tibilities to the germs of vegetable life, ventured 
also, in his creative wisdom, on a sublime analogy 
in the spiritual world. He created the human 
mind, and endued it with like warm and kindly 
susceptibilities to the germs of moral and spiritual 
influence. Now, in this analogy, it is plain that 
the mind is the soil, and truth is the seed. A 
perception of truth, once deposited in the mind, 
can neither perish nor lie silent and inert. By a 
law of the spiritual nature, it must germinate, 
spring up, and produce a harvest of kindred per- 
ceptions ; and this without the choice and despite 
the intentions and even the efforts of the soul her- 
self. It is a cause, which must produce its effect. 
The mind, it is true, by a voluntary effort, may be 
closed against the germinal perception — may re- 
fuse to receive it ; but once received it can neither 
destroy it, nor prevent its increase. Take, for an 
illustration, the simplest axiom in numerical sci- 
ence, that 2+2=4. It is proposed to teach this 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 61 



truth to one — no difference whether child or adult 
— utterly ignorant of the whole matter. Now it is 
plain that he may refuse to be taught ; he may 
declare that he will learn, that he will know, 
nothing whatever on this subject. He has here 
the liberty of choice. But, if he once consent, and 
receive the proposition into his mind, is it not plain 
that there must spring from it a train of indefi- 
nitely various, though kindred perceptions ? 

Now truth, the seed of the soul-soil, is of two 
kinds : positive and moral. The example just 
given is that of a germinal perception of positive 
truth. With equal facility we may illustrate the 
effects of moral truth. A perception of the beau- 
ties of holiness, for example, is the perception of 
a good truth, because holiness is truly beautiful. 
A perception of the pleasures of sin, is the percep- 
tion of an evil truth, because sin has, truly, some 
pleasures. To both these perceptions — which are 
of moral truth — the same law applies (with one 
difference, which we will presently remark), as in 
the case of positive truth. We may refuse them 
an entrance ; but, once planted in the mind, they 
become prolific and indestructible causes of good or 
evil effects. And this rule does not — and herein 
consists the whole difference between positive and 
moral truth — this rule does not, as one might 
suppose at first, without much and careful think- 
ing, leave us at the mercy of every passing word, 
thought, and suggestion of evil, which satanic 
hands have scattered, and are still busily strewing, 
through the world ; any more than it leaves us the 



62 HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 

helpless converts of the sermons which we hear, 
and the good influences which assail us on every 
hand. Man has guaranteed to him, anterior to 
both good and evil, a large liberty of choice. Him- 
self, and not another, looking through the open 
port of attention, and marking the quality of the 
guests which seek admittance, — his own, and not 
another's hand, must open the barred avenues of 
the soul to the angelic or infernal convoy. If the 
simple sight, hearing, and knowledge of the right, 
made men good, none would be evil. If the simple 
sight, hearing, and knowledge of the wrong made 
men evil, none would be good. It is necessary that 
the heart receive, welcome, cherish, and brood over 
the germs of either good or evil, ere they quicken 
into celestial or infernal life. And hi all this, the 
Heart may do as she freely will : nor God, nor cir- 
cumstance, which is essential God ; nor devil, nor 
temptation, which is essential devil, shall constrain 
her ; for such is the law of human moral agency, 
and consequent responsibility. 

But the other law, that of cause and effect, ap- 
plies subsequently, and with rapidly increasing 
force, proportioned, always, to the number and 
quality of good or evil germs which are received 
into the mind, and made welcome by the heart. 
The ratio of increase, it is plain, in good or evil 
effects, from the implanted germ, must be in any 
.given case indefinitely greater than the greatest 
results of seed-bearing in the vegetable world ; for 
this is the law of figurative application, and there- 
fore had it been otherwise, the Holy Spirit could 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 63 

not have used this particular metaphor : " Sow in 
righteousness, reap in mercy." 

What an astounding view is thus opened to 
us, of the effects, upon ourselves, of our own evil 
thoughts, desires, and tempers ! We receive, and 
encourage to take root in our minds, a perception 
of the pleasures of sin ; we meditate upon it ; we 
brood over it ; we steep it in the voluptuous waters 
of reverie ; we sketch it in fanciful pictures ; we 
weave it into imaginative creations ; we gloat 
over it and nurse it ; until this thought, like a vile 
and noxious weed, seizes upon all the unappropri- 
ated soil of the heart. Its rate of increase, with 
every passing day of our existence, is something 
fearful. At first, it was apparently a slight mat- 
ter: duty seemed irksome and embarrassing, and 
repose pleasant ; and we simply excused ourselves 
from the cross ; or deception seemed slight, easy, 
and profitable, and we merely hid the truth ; or 
appetite presented a pleasant, and as we thought, 
not very harmful attraction, and we ate and 
drank ; or Impurity smiled and beckoned, and 
we yielded an incautious consent to what we were 
fully resolved should be but a moment's dalliance. 
The days ran on ; but night and day, waking 
and sleeping, dreaming and doing, these seeds of 
evil have unfolded, fructified, and brought forth 
their harvests in our minds ; which, falling back 
upon the same fruitful soil, have produced ten 
thousand other harvests ; and these now cover 
every spot of the soul's surface with the rank, 
dark growth of sin ; we are confirmed formalists 



64 HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 

— nor God's Word nor Spirit can reach us — we 
nor care nor labor for the Church, nor for God, 
nor for souls ; and all this time we are wrapped in 
the beautiful garment of a seemly religious profes- 
sion, and appear to men as in the embrace of the 
visible Church ; while in reality the vampire of hell 
is fanning us, with his horrid wings, to a deadlier 
repose, and draining, from our already insensible 
souls, the last precious drops of spiritual life : or, 
the first seed of falsehood grown to fraud, and 
avarice, and theft, and rapacity, behold us bank- 
rupt of all principle, spurning all restraint, care- 
less of all judgment, forgetful of all eternity, — 
hasting to hell ! or, Appetite, having borne its 
harvest in our lives, signals the red autumn of in- 
temperance, by the daily-dropping fruits of revelry, 
riot, raving, blasphemy, cruelty, and crime : or Im- 
purity has grown and multiplied, and, with devilish 
art, distilled her harvests into a foul, venomous, 
and lustful slime ; with which she has daubed, 
plastered, stained, polluted, and prostituted our 
highest and purest faculties, until we are almost 
too loathsome for the embrace of the devils ! 

True, these are extreme instances ; in which evil 
came unresisted and welcome to the heart, and re- 
mained there long without any effective opposi- 
tion. In the greater number of souls, good and 
evil influences are more evenly balanced, and strive 
long together without such decided advantage to 
either party. But a decided superiority once ob- 
tained by the forces of the wrong, and the dispro- 
portion greatens with terrible rapidity. Every 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 65 



moment the man ripens for hell. All the tropic 
forces of evil are glowing in his heart, and cover 
it with that rank luxuriance of sin, in which hide 
the monsters of spiritual prey. And so, in some 
black night or day, the man dies, and hell gets its 
own. But death has not altered hiin essentially. 
The mere accident of flesh apart, he is the same 
man in hell that he was on earth. He is simply 
wedded indissolubly to Sin. It is no longer a foul 
and obscene dalliance, but an eternal embrace. 
He is simply, all and forever, consecrated to evil. 
The last seedling germ of good has been choked 
from his heart, and he merely goes to the garners 
of infernal truth for more and deadlier seed of sin, 
that his future soul-harvests may be worthy of the 
sultry clime of Hell. 

And this must go on forever ! O, when we 
think of this " ineffable forever," and then re- 
member how wretched our little sins have made 
us ; and all of us, even the children of our day, 
can remember this ; and how terribly our great 
sins have tortured us ; and some of us, whose 
hearts still wear the uncured wounds of vice and 
crime, scarce cicatrized by the healing years, can 
remember even this ; and when we do remember 
it, and compare it with the fiery harvests of that 
man on whose " sorrow-shriveled brow " the very 
years of perdition have lost themselves in the infi- 
nite : we can no longer feel surprise that the Holy 
Ghost, when He would tell us and warn us of this 
doom, could find no figures so appropriate as " the 

5 



66 HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 

fire that burnetii forever and eyer," and " the 
worm that dieth not." 

Is any one shallow or foolish or uncandid enough 
to intimate, even to the partial tribunal of his own 
heart, that this doctrine abridges man's moral free- 
dom ? Though he deserves no answer, yet we will 
answer him by a simple analogy, which, however 
humble a style of argument, may touch the meas- 
ure of his capacity. Is the moral liberty of the 
man who freely promises to pay his neighbor a 
thousand dollars — for what he esteems a good and 
valuable consideration, and with regard to whose 
worth and quality he is in no sense deceived — 
abridged by his obligation to comply with that 
promise? Ought he to repudiate that debt in 
order to be a free man ? Nay, this is not freedom, 
but fraud ; and we shrewdly suspect that these are 
the terms on which such men want moral liberty ; 
and this is what they mean when they complain 
of a lack of it : they would be free to sell them- 
selves to the devil during the term of their natural 
lives, and, after having received all his advances 
in the form of worldly pleasures, and spent them 
on their lusts, they would repudiate the bond when 
they come to die ; but God is the Just Judge, 
who will see that even the devil has his due, and 
that the men who have freely sold themselves to 
Evil in this world shall be bound to her by ada- 
mantine chains in the world to come. 

And, as the devil furnishes man with abundant 
seed of evil, but cannot plant it, save by the free 
cooperative labors of the soul herself, so God fur- 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 67 

nishes him with abundant seed of good, but will 
not plant it, except on the same condition. In 
untranimeled sovereignty of soul, he must himself 
elect between the good and evil seed. In the most 
important sense (which is always and everywhere 
the practical one), man is the sower of his own 
spiritual field. If he will, he may make his heart 
the harvest-ground of goodness and purity. He 
may admit, and welcome, and keep warm in his 
soul a perception of the beauties of holiness ; he 
may ponder, meditate, and brood over it ; he may 
steep it in the delicious influences of reverie ; he 
may heat it with the fires of imagination, and 
adorn it with the hues of fancy ; he may love it, 
cherish it, and gloat over it, until this thought 
shall prove to him a germ of almost infinite repro- 
ductive power. Its first effect will be a true and 
deep sense of the natural ugliness and deformity 
of sin ; its second effect, a warm appreciation, ar- 
dent desire, and tender love for goodness. These 
two combined will produce again repentance unto 
life, or that act of fealty by which the Soul com- 
mits herself to God and good. The immediate 
and necessary effect of true repentance will be a 
true and saving faith, which, working by love, in 
the same divinely increasing ratio, will gradually 
but certainly purify the heart, and consecrate the 
whole life to virtue. The result will be one of 
those rare exhibitions of Christian usefulness which 
astonish the world, and gladden the Church, and 
turn many to righteousness, and shine in the hearts 
and memories of men, luminous as the stars for- 
ever and ever. 



68 HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 

And when such a man dies and goes home to 
heaven, he is not another and different person, but 
the same. The merely accidental conditions of 
his being are alone changed. In all else, in all 
that is essential to his character, he is the same 
man there as here. The fertile soil of his heart, 
grown more capable as it grew more productive, 
has but exhausted the earthly supplies of spiritual 
truth, and gone to replenish itself at the heavenly 
garner. And there, always " sowing in righteous- 
ness," always "reaping in mercy," with the whole 
surface and substance of his soul-soil warmed and 
caressed by the unshadowed beams of divine love, 
and watered by the gentle dews of all spiritual 
influence, who can estimate the boundless richness 
of his heavenly produce ? 

And when we reflect that this will go on for- 
ever, in a perpetually increasing and rapidly accel- 
erating proportion of power and effect ; and when 
we remember what peace and happiness our trifling 
achievements in virtue have brought us, — and all 
of us, even the little children, can remember this, 
— and what joy and bliss have flowed from our 
larger successes in trying to be good ; and some of 
us, who have been many years upon the way, and 
had a long and deep experience of God's love, may 
remember even this ; and when we compare this 
with the happiness of that man who has been for 
untold ages and forever freed from sin and dedi- 
cated to virtue, — whose brow is glorious with the 
suns of the eternal years, and his soul warmed 
with the smile of an unveiled God : is it any mar- 



HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 69 



vel that tlie Holy Ghost, when He would tell us 
and promise us these things, should talk of crowns 
of life, and thrones of glory, and harps of rejoic- 
ing, and trees and rivers of life, and golden streets, 
and diamond walls, and pearly gates, and all the 
hyperboles of glorious rapture and repose ? 

Therefore, " sow to yourselves in righteousness." 
Gather every precious seed of religious truth that 
falls within your sphere of life, from the all-provi- 
dent hand of God, and plant it in your heart ; and 
it shall as certainly bring forth fruit as God is true, 
and his immutable law of cause and effect cannot 
fail. Care you only for the planting ; God is re- 
sponsible for the harvest. Is evil in your heart ? 
Sit not down, in helpless sadness, to mourn over it. 
Crowd it out with good ! Let the dead past bury 
its dead ; come thou and follow Christ. Truth, 
the seed, is ready to your hand ; soul, the soil, is 
thirsting for your tillage. Hell is busy, and thus 
far, perhaps, you have consented with Hell against 
your own soul ; but Heaven is ready, and to-day 
you may strike hands with God and the angels for 
your own rescue and redemption. Begin at once 
to sow the seed of good. Listen to the Gospel as 
you never listened before, with soul athirst, and 
heart and ear attent. Pray as you have not prayed 
before in years, if ever, in agony of spiritual hun- 
ger. Kneel at God's altar, and let the ordinances 
of God's house sink, germ-like, deep into the ten- 
der soil of your heart, softened by the tears of pen- 
itence. Then rise and go hence to a new life ; a 



70 HUMAN SOVEREIGNTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. 



life of prayer and faith, of cross-bearing and duty, 
of love and humility, of joy and peace ; and in 
the day of death and judgment, at the grand har- 
vest home of the universe, you shall "reap in 
mercy." 



VII. 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 

M If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether 
it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." — John vii. 17. 

It was at the Feast of Tabernacles, in the Tem- 
ple at Jerusalem, that Jesus uttered these words. 
The city was crowded with curious and excited 
men, agitated by conflicting opinions concerning 
the new doctrine ; and desiring — some of them 
— to hear more of it ; and others — by far the 
greater number — to silence its Teacher forever. 
These last had waited and watched and sought for 
Him, that they might arrest and slay Him. He 
had not accompanied his disciples to the Feast : 
alone and in secret He had come from Galilee ; 
and suddenly appearing in the city and in the 
Temple, He calmly confronted the vast multitude 
of his enemies, and proceeded as usual to teach the 
people. " And the Jews marveled ; saying how 
knoweth this man letters, having never learned ? " 
Jesus answering, it is probable, as much to their 
thoughts as to their murmured words, responded, 
" My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me. 
And now I am come to test your candor. Ye pro- 
claim yourselves the peculiar people, the children, 
the friends of God ; and ye profess to desire the 



72 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



truth concerning me and my doctrine. I have 
here a proposition to make which will search your 
hearts : if any man among you all will do His will, 
he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God 
or whether I speak of myself." This challenge from 
the Hps of Christ, thrown broadly out to the unbe- 
lieving Jews and the unbelieving world, we offer 
in his name to-day to all who will accept it. Many 
of you profess an anxious desire to know the truth 
of those doctrines of experimental godliness taught 
by Christ. We would test the sincerity of such 
professions by the same means which He has em- 
ployed ; and authorized by his example we submit 
to you this plain and simple proposition : If any 
man will do God's will he shall know of these doc- 
trines whether they be Divine or human. 

The condition has two members: first, if any 
man is willing to do God's will ; secondly, if any 
man actually do God's will. But if any man be 
willing to do God's will, he has a candid mind. 
He is not prepossessed by his own will or wisdom. 
He is not predetermined to have his own way. He 
does not imagine that he knows more than any- 
body else ; that he thinks better than anybody 
else. It is essential to candor that a man distrust 
his own candor. He must examine, rigidly, his 
heart and his head. He must see to it that his 
mind is not preoccupied with favorite theories of 
religion, — the patchwork of selfishness, philosophy, 
and education. He must subscribe, blindly and 
submissively, to no creed ; he must pin his faith to 
no church-sleeve, gowned or ungowned. The pure 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



73 



Word of God must be his chief Counselor and his 
sole Arbiter, in deciding what is the Divine will. 
He must not allow any kind or degree of prejudice 
to harbor in his soul. There must be nothing in 
his mental habits, tastes, or sentiments, which pre- 
judges these doctrines and revolts from their sway. 
He must absolutely dislike neither the doctrines 
themselves, their teachers, nor their ordinary and 
most humble exemplars. In particular, he must 
be careful that there be nothing in the denomina- 
tional connection of their teachers, or the condition 
in life of their warmest professors, from which the 
sensitive fastidiousness of his mind turns away. In 
one word, he must be thoroughly open to convic- 
tion. His soul must be transparent as crystal to 
every ray of truth, and welcome it as warmly, and 
reflect it as brightly, as the diamond does the light. 
It must be plain to any understanding that, with- 
out this supreme and all-pervading candor of spirit, 
no man can be willing to do God's will ; and that 
if he believe otherwise of himself, he is simply but 
deeply deceived. 

If any man be willing to do God's will, he has, 
in the second place, an earnest desire to know wlyat 
that will is. There must be in his mind not only 
no repugnancy to the truth; he must not only 
not dread it ; he must not only not close his eyes 
and stop his ears, lest he should see and hear, in 
the truth, his own condemnation ; but he must 
have a courageous desire to find out its quality and 
test himself by its light. His soul must wear no 
mask, no defensive armor. No kind or degree 



74 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



of indifference to the knowledge of the truth, can 
consist with willingness to be governed by it. Not 
only must one open his mind and heart to receive 
it, he must earnestly and deeply desire it. He 
must hunger and thirst for it ; for, truly, it is to 
him the bread and water of eternal life ; and 
though the provision be ample, those who hunger 
not will not eat ; those who thirst not will not 
drink. Nor will any consideration excuse him from 
personal effort to find out what is the will of God 
concerning him. Vigils, prayers, fastings, study, 
meditation, all must be invoked to guide him to 
the truth, and help him to apprehend it. Every 
motion of the soul must be in the direction of the 
truth ; and every energy of the spirit must impel 
him toward it. The emotional fires must kindle 
and sustain a quenchless intellectual ardor. Body, 
intellect, and heart, must extend their common 
arms to embrace the truth. This earnest desire to 
know the will of God, expressed by the constant 
exertion of all the active powers to acquire that 
knowledge, the least reflection will convince us, is 
absolutely essential to willingness to be governed 
by it. 

In the third place, if any man be willing to do 
God's will, he has a firm determination to do con- 
stantly and purely right. In other words, if he be 
willing to do God's will, it is the same thing as to 
say — dropping the auxiliary and changing the 
form, though neither the tense nor significance of 
the expression — he wills to do it. And this too 
intelligently ; after mature reflection and severe 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



75 



self-examination. In a word, he has made up his 
mind that he will do God's will at any cost ; how- 
ever it may cross his natural or habitual inclina- 
tions. He may have been a lover of pleasure ; 
there may be a spirit of voluptuous sensuality in 
his soul, which rises up with burning answer to the 
appeals of beauty and the bowl ; but he will exor- 
cise that fiend or bind him ; he will not be led by 
him. He may love his ease ; he may have become 
so accustomed to the calm of domestic enjoyment 
that the clarion call of Duty pains his ear ; no dif- 
ference — it is a Divine call ; and he will obey 
though it summon him to toil and conflict. How- 
ever mortifying to his pride, he is still resolved to 
do the will of God. He may have fancied himself 
endowed with intellectual faculties superior to those 
of most men ; he may have cultivated them to the 
last possible degree, and believed himself qualified 
to wrestle, triumphantly, with the strongest prob- 
lems of life ; but thrown and humbled by the giant 
Future, he kneels submissively to God. He may 
have indulged in the amiable weakness of family 
pride, and have thought that the unpopular duties 
of evangelical godliness would render him a dis- 
graceful exception to the stately self-sufficiency of 
his kindred : no difference still — he will incur the 
disgrace and humiliation of worshipping his Maker. 
He may have held — may still hold — a high social 
position, and may have felt deep reluctance to 
prostrate his lofty rank to those humble places 
where the Christian kneels and labors and prays ; 
it matters not — he will do it — he will do it! 



76 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



though the whole social world around him should 
open its eyes as widely as the laws of fashionable 
astonishment will permit. He will do the will of 
God, however apparently injurious to his interest. 
Though it seem to demand the sacrifice of all his 
property, he will make it ; for the pearl of Heaven 
is more precious, in his eyes, than all the gold of 
earth. Though it seem to incur the contempt of 
all his friends, he will risk it ; for God's approval, 
he feels, is better than the praise of men. Though 
it seem to call for the sacrifice of his heart's idol, 
he will not hesitate, for God is able to recompense 
him ; and who can tell, when the costly offering is 
bound and laid upon the altar, and the sacrificial 
knife uplifted, but some heaven-sent angel may 
interpose, and give him back his love, in reward 
of his obedience. Though it seem to require health 
and even life itself, he is ready for the last test ; 
for the tainted air may be purified by an invisible 
spirit, and the lions which seem to forbid his prog- 
ress may be held back by a viewless chain. And 
even if it were not so he has learned that " wisdom 
which cometh from above," that it is better to die 
in the path of duty, than live to desert it. Thus, 
if any man be willing to do God's will, he has 
made up his mind to serve Him at all hazards and 
to the end of life. 

And this brings us to the second member of the 
condition : if any man actually do God's will. But 
if any man, who has not been accustomed to do the 
will of God, would now begin to do it, how shall 
he commence ? What is the first step ? and how 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



77 



shall the uninitiated and unprepared learn to take 
it ? Just there we err. The sinner is not unpre- 
pared to do the will of God ; otherwise he would 
not be responsible for failing to do it ; since no 
man can prepare himself for this work ; and the 
want of preparation would therefore operate to 
free him forever both from duty and accountable- 
ness. Hence every sinner is rendered, independ- 
ently of his own choice and agency, capable of 
doing God's will ; or we must take refuge in the 
blasphemy, that God trifles with him when he 
enjoins it. There is no other alternative; and 
from this every sober mind will shrink with horror. 
We are therefore rationally shut up to the conclu- 
sion that salvation is practicable to every man ; 
that he has both the power to will and the power 
to do God's will, — not originally, in and of him- 
self, but derived from God, through the sacrifice of 
Christ : in other words, that the Atonement is 
sufficient for the wants of the race ; or God would 
not have testified of Christ that " He died for all ; " 
and that it is efficient in preparing all men to do 
the will of God ; or He would not have commanded 
" all men everywhere " to do it. But what is it ? 
What is the first duty of a sinful man who sets out 
actually to do the will of God ? Obviously repent- 
ance. But can a man — any man — repent when- 
ever he desires to do so ? Are not the worst hearts 
visited by good desires? by fine, generous, and 
even pure aspirations ? All this is true ; and yet 
we reply that any man who wishes to repent can 
do so. "But," you say, " why then does he not 



78 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



do it ?" He must answer the question for himself ; 
but neither his failure to act, nor mine to answer, 
implies any want of ability on his part to repent. 
How many things do we desire, in a sentimental 
sort of way, which lie within easy reach of our 
natural ability to possess, and which yet we never 
obtain ? The reason : we have not obtained our 
own full consent ; we are not willing to make the 
effort, or expend the money, necessary to obtain 
them. And if any one should gravely insist that, 
because of this unwillingness on our part, it was 
absolutely impossible for us ever to possess these 
trifles, should we not laugh at him ? So with the 
sinner who desires salvation, and yet does not ob- 
tain it. He has not yet gained his own consent to 
seek it ; and if, on this account, you gravely con- 
clude that it is impossible for him — though he 
may desire, in order to escape responsibility, to 
agree with you — yet Consciousness, all the time, 
laughs at your reasoning and his illusion. Who- 
ever then will do the will of God, let him repent. 
But we do not maintain the absurdity that he can 
perfect the work of repentance in a moment. He 
has descended, step by step, into the foul, dark 
caverns of .sin ; and no one convulsive bound — no 
spasm of desire for light and purity — will bring 
him to the upper air again. But one thing he can 
do : he can turn about and endeavor, honestly and 
carefully, to retrace his steps. In a word, he must 
repent as well as he can. Something he can do : 
let him do that something. But again, what is it ? 
What is the first duty of the man who would do 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



79 



the will of God ? We answer, to stop and think. 
Let liim reflect, calmly and deeply and patiently. 
Let him ask himself whither he is tending, and 
what will be the end of his progress. Let him 
dwell npon the several steps of that awful traverse 
by which he has reached the region of guilty dark- 
ness where he now stands. Let him think upon 
his sins. Let him open the long-closed and dimly- 
lighted chambers of Memory. Let him dare to 
look upon the treasures of sin which the labors of 
his whole life have accumulated. Let him esti- 
mate their number and their importance. Let 
him stand alone — alone — with his eyes opened 
upon the crimes of his life. Let him think of his 
innocence lost ; of his conscience seared ; of his 
God insulted and defied. And patiently thinking 
thus, his heart will grow very sad ; and tears will 
come unbidden to his eyes, — his eyes, who thought 
and said that he could not weep, — and ere he is 
well aware of what is taking place, the gentle rain 
of a " godly sorrow " for sin will be sweeping, with 
hallowing power, over his long parched and thirst- 
ing heart. He will find it possible to be sorry for 
his sins. He will no more complain of a want of 
feeling and sensibility. Let him continue to pon- 
der, and the burden of his sins will grow terrible. 
He will feel himself chained as to a " body of 
death." A sense of awful oppression will pervade 
his soul. Intense hatred of his sin and loathing 
of himself will take firm possession of his mind. 
He will see — he will feel — "the exceeding sin- 
fulness of sin'" In the midst of his anguish, he 



80 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



will look around for some relief, some means of 
freeing himself from his burden. Nothing is 
there ; nothing but the loathed sight and sense of 
sin. Self -despair — despair of all human help — 
closes darkly around him ; until, from the depths 
of his unutterable wretchedness, rises that cry of 
agony which erst, so many hundred years agone, 
burst from the lips of one dark, crime-stained man, 
who stood afar off, and did not dare so much as to 
lift up his eyes unto heaven, " God ! be merciful 
to me a sinner ! " and for the first time in his life, 
since he left behind him the happy, golden gates 
of childish innocence, the man has prayed ! ■ 

But to render this experiment completely suc- 
cessful, one must do all the will of God. His next 
important duty will be faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, since this is expressly enjoined, and is the 
great condition of justification. With regard to 
his ability to perform this duty, the same course of 
argument which we have followed in connection 
with repentance, will conduct us to the correspond- 
ing conclusion that God prepares the soul — every 
soul — for faith, by imparting to it spiritual facul- 
ties capable of apprehending faith's great object, 
and so quickening those faculties that their exercise 
is simply a matter of choice with their possessor, 
who is, in consequence, responsible for failing to 
use them, and condemned if he does not believe. 
Therefore, if any man will do God's will, he must 
have faith in Christ ; for this is the will of God 
concerning all men, that they believe in the name 
of his only-begotten Son. But how shall a man 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



81 



begin to believe ? What are the several steps of 
that progress by which humanity may approach 
and embrace Divinity in the person of its Saviour ? 
These are difficult to define, because the process is 
not merely intellectual, but also moral and spirit- 
ual ; containing a combination and commingling 
of elements which escape the cold analysis of the 
understanding. But what is sufficiently evident is, 
that he who would do the will of God can and 
must believe that Christ is the only and all-suffi- 
cient Saviour of men. Let him take God's word 
for this, since He has condescended to pledge it to 
this effect. Let him, then, on the same divine 
authority, take the truth that, while Christ is the 
Saviour of all men, so far as to redeem them from 
the curse of Adam's transgression, He is only com- 
pletely and specially the Saviour of them that 
believe on Him. Let him believe that God. can 
be just, and yet the Justifier of any ungodly man 
that believes in Jesus Christ. Let him believe 
that salvation is practicable for Mm ; that God, in 
consideration of the Atonement, is able and willing 
to justify him. Let him believe that " now is the 
accepted time." And, finally, let him believe that 
God does, in this present moment of time, while 
he is calling on Him for mercy, — because of 
Christ's sacrifice and intercession, and his own 
penitent faith, — have mercy on him and pardon 
all his sins ; and according to his faith it shall be 
done unto him. Standing thus, in spirit, before 
the Cross of Christ, and gazing, by faith, upon the 
sacrifice which that holy emblem types, just there 
6 



82 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



a miracle is wrought ! God says, " I forgive." No 
human ear hears the words ; they are deeply in- 
spoken to his soul. God says, " I forgive," and 
his burden falls. There is no longer any weight 
upon his heart, upon his conscience. " Being jus- 
tified by faith," he has " peace with God." More : 
in that same instant the wing of the infinite Spirit 
hath flashed from heaven to earth, and its burning 
and hallowing touch has purified his nature ! He 
is no longer the same man ; for the whole spirit of 
his sentiments, not less than the whole garb of his 
habits, is changed. He is " a new creature in 
Christ Jesus." 

" But," you say, " how unreasonable ! how un- 
philosophical is all this ! You bid the man believe, 
as if his understanding and judgment were not in- 
volved in the matter. You make faith a mere ex- 
ercise of the will, as if it did not depend entirely 
upon evidence." No, it does not depend alone 
on evidence ; nor do we make it to depend merely 
on the will. The truth is, that both are equally 
concerned, — evidence, and the disposition to em- 
brace it. But here is no lack of evidence. On 
the contrary, the very strongest of which the case 
admits, and the highest which human faculties are 
capable of apprehending, is here afforded, — the 
word of God, and the assurance that " it is impos- 
sible for God to lie." 

But one who does the will of God, after being 
justified, lives as purely and usefully as possible. 
We say as possible, for he is yet but a " babe 
in Christ," and his spiritual powers are limited. 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



83 



There comes a long and weary contest with the 
vicious habits which he contracted while an im- 
penitent man, and with the tendency to inordinate- 
ness and license, which inheres in all the desires 
and passions of his nature, but newly subjugated 
to Christ. Then, too, he is just starting upon a 
new career, and mistakes are inevitable. He is 
undertaking an unwonted toil, and his hands are 
unskillful. These circumstances will limit, for a 
time, his efficiency, but it will gradually and stead- 
ily enlarge ; and, in the mean time, he is responsi- 
ble but for his actual powers and circumstances. 
God is not a harsh judge to the infant Christian, 
but a tender and loving Father. Some of us have 
five or six children in our homes, and we assign 
them tasks adapted to the age and strength of each. 
Suppose, on a day, that we send them all for wood ; 
and while the big boy who heads our little com- 
pany makes light of his heavy load, and the others 
come laden well, each according to his strength, the 
youngest of all, the baby, just able to walk alone, 
comes staggering under the burden of a single lit- 
tle stick ! Then which one, of all the group, do 
we clasp in our arms and caress and praise ? " Like 
as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth 
them that fear Him." We repeat and emphasize, 
God does not want any man to repent any better 
than he can ; God does not want him to believe 
any better than he can ; God does not want him 
to live any more purely and usefully than he can. 
Failures and errors, therefore, while they occasion 
mortification, need not bring discouragement or 
condemnation. 



84 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



And thus repenting, believing, and living for 
God, " he shall know of the doctrine " of repent- 
ance that it is altogether reasonable. It shall pre- 
sent itself to his understanding with the distinct- 
ness, and with something even of the glory, of a 
revelation from Heaven. He shall see and feel 
how utterly impossible salvation must always have 
been to him without the penitence which made 
him its willing subject ; and, seeing this, he will 
be able to comprehend how wisely as well as mer- 
cifully, in compassion to the infirmities of the hu- 
man understanding, the Infinite Mind has revealed 
to man this first round in the only ladder that 
leads from a sinful earth to a sinless Heaven. He 
will wonder that he could ever have had any diffi- 
culties about the doctrine of repentance. Above 
all, its perfect adaptation as a means to an end, of 
which he has just made so successful an experi- 
ment ; its essentialness to that end, being the only 
means in the universe which could have accom- 
plished it, and the ray of heavenly light which 
perpetually points to it, — all shall conspire to con- 
vince him of the divine origin of this doctrine so 
firmly, that time nor chance nor change nor life 
nor death can ever shake his confidence. 

Thus repenting and believing and living for 
God, " he shall know of the doctrine " of faith, as 
the instrumental condition of man's justification, 
that it is divine. Never, till he believed unto life, 
was he able to apprehend the influence of faith 
upon character. Never before did he realize the 
truth that a man is, spiritually, as his faith. This 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



85 



opens to him the whole philosophy of human na- 
ture as it is connected with God's plan of salvation. 
He may not be able to expound it ; he may have 
no terms in which to set it forth ; for lack of men- 
tal training he may not be equal to the task of ex- 
plaining himself ; but he sees, feels, knows ; and 
half the wild joy which he expresses by shouts of 
rapture, is attributable to this prospect of truth 
which has opened, like the vision of a new world, 
upon his soul. Let a man once exercise that faith 
in Christ which brings salvation, and he will rec- 
ognize, infallibly, the divinity of the Voice which 
bade him believe. 

Still repenting and believing and living for God, 
he shall know, of the doctrines of human purity 
and spiritual endowment taught by Christ, that 
they are altogether divine, and such as perfectly 
meet the wants of humanity, both in its individual 
and collective forms. He shall understand the 
force and fullness of those deep words of the Mas- 
ter, which fell from his lips but a moment before 
the Heavens received Him : " Ye shall receive 
power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon 
you." As he goes on conquering, one after an- 
other, every evil temper and passion and inclina- 
tion of his soul ; as larger and fuller measures of 
grace and blessing are poured into his heart ; as 
deeper and wider and more permanent efficiency 
accompanies his efforts for the glory of God in the 
welfare of man, till the last evil guest is banished 
from his heart ; till God the Father, Son, and 
Spirit dwell in him ; till his very tones and ges- 



86 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



tures are redolent of spiritual power, and set on 
fire the hearts of men, — then, O then, he shall 
know, of all these doctrines, their divinity, power, 
and preciousness : their divinity, because God's 
own voice testifies of it to his soul's interior sense ; 
their power, because his own redeemed nature is at 
once its witness, and its fine and capable engine ; 
their preciousness, because the joys of Heaven 
have come down to earth, and nestled in his heart, 
and given him a foretaste of that " pure river of 
water of fife, proceeding out of the throne of God 
and of the Lamb," and of the fruits of that " tree 
of life " whose " leaves " are " for the healing of 
the nations." 

" He shall know." O, the blessed calm, the 
grateful rest, of full assurance ! No more vague 
conjectures, no more wild imaginings, no more vain 
reasonings, no more anxious investigations for the 
truth ; he shall know it. No more painful uncer- 
tainty, no more tormenting doubt, no more dim 
and fading hope of personal acceptance ; he shall 
know it. He shall know ! he shall KNOW ! The 
difference is greater between the privileges of such 
knowledge and the pains of sinful ignorance, than 
that between the blind and the seeing. The mass 
of men are satisfied to wander darkly through a 
world of light, groping in trembling uncertainty, 
leaning on the frail staff of human opinion, and 
led by some pet creed ; while only here and there 
a soul, content to do the will of God, feels upon 
his spiritual vision the unsealing finger of Omnip- 
otence, and revels in the glorious beauty of a new 
and splendid life. 



DOING GOD'S WILL. 



87 



We have thus thrown down the gauntlet. The 
blood-stained glove of the Man of Calvary lies in 
the lists of life before you ! Who dare take it up ? 
In his name and in his words we challenge its ac- 
ceptance : " If any man will he shall know." 

Do we know ? we who profess to know, do we 
know ? Is our faith clear as vision, and strong 
enough to bring the invisible in sight, and clothe 
us with " power from on high ? " If not, it is be- 
cause we have not done, because we are not will- 
ing to do, the will of God. So do the blind lead 
the blind, and both together fall into the ditch of 
sinful error. 



VIII. 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE EUTURE STATE. 

"Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear 
what we shall be : but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall 
be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is." — 1 John iii. 2. 

While obviously, in the text, directing the 
thoughts and hopes of believers in the Christian 
faith to the powers, privileges, and joys of another 
world, this Apostle will not have them to misap- 
prehend the condition on which alone those beati- 
tudes may be realized, nor suffer others, disquali- 
fied by essential character, to misappropriate the 
splendid promise which he unfolds. His "we" 
undoubtedly includes all believers, but not all 
who fancy themselves believers ; not all who say 
"Lord, Lord;" but only those who are now the 
sons of God." By sonship to God, on the part of 
any human agent, there is implied a Divine act of 
adoption; by which the relations of the natural 
child of evil were changed, and he became the 
child of God. But the child of evil is evil ; the 
son of sin is sinful; the natural offspring of the 
devil, begotten upon the fallen bride of God, bears 
his father's likeness ; and such a being, evil, sinful, 
and devilish, God could not love, and therefore 
could not adopt for his own child. Therefore, the 
fact of adoption in a particular instance being 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 89 

granted, there is necessarily implied an essential 
change in the nature of its subject. From having 
been evil in all his dispositions, he must become 
good in all his dispositions. This change is termed 
by Christ a new birth; evidently because of its 
strong resemblance, not t in physical features and 
conditions, but in the purer analogies of spiritual 
endowment, to the natural birth of a human being. 
As such a being bears, from his natural birth, the 
parent stamp of evil, so the same being, begotten 
of God, through the Holy Ghost, bears, from his 
spiritual birth, the features of his Divine Parent- 
age, in desires, affections, and purposes of good- 
ness. But God's election of certain moral agents, 
in the human world, to become, by this new birth 
and adoption, his children, is not unconditional, 
blind, and fatal. This is the saddest, because the 
most mischievous, of all theological errors. It 
confounds all the distinctions between right and 
wrong, paralyzes the spiritual energies of man, and 
degrades the Almighty from his natural rank of a 
just and holy Monarch, to a fond, stern, ruthless, 
or eccentric tyrant. " The Lord hath set apart 
him that is godly for himself." " The righteous 
shall surely live." "Whosoever cometh, I will, in 
no wise, cast out." " And whosoever will, let him 
come, and take of the water of life freely." This 
is the Scriptural doctrine of election, as well as the 
rational one. No other can be found in the Scrip- 
tures, as no other can be tolerated by sound reason. 
Upon the human will, enfranchised by the pre- 
venting grace of Christ, God has devolved the 



90 THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 

responsibility of a free election of either good or 
evil, for its earthly and perpetual portion ; and 
accordingly its choice of good is rewarded by a 
personal Divine election and adoption, and its 
choice of evil punished by a personal Divine rep- 
robation. If, thus, with, the unreluctant voice of 
our whole being, we have chosen good and conse- 
crated our lives to its service, we are converted, 
justified, born again ; and " now are we the sons of 
God ; and it doth not yet appear what we shall 
be; but we know that, when He shall appear, 
we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as 
He is." 

"It doth not yet appear what we shall be." 
The conditions of the saint's glorious immortality 
are not evident, apparent, in the present life. 
They have Divine assurance that it shall be girt 
with superhuman splendors. Thrones and crowns, 
and golden harps and angel songs, and starry gems, 
and crystal waters, and trees and rivers of life, and 
emerald fields and purple-glorious fruits, and robes 
of purity and sceptres of power, flash and gleam 
and sparkle, through the thrilling pages of the 
Revelator ; but really, when we sum up the re- 
sults, when we question and analyze, when we 
would arrange and combine, and so furnish forth, 
in all its lovely magnificence, the temple of our 
future being, we discover, with a pained surprise, 
that we have really no materials for such a finished 
picture. " It doth not yet appear what we shall 
be." 

And yet, the substance of that dimly-sketched 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 91 

future is already ours ; f or 14 we know that, when 
He shall appear, we shall be like Him ; for we 
shall see Him as He is." A German writer has 
said, " The eye sees only what it can see ; " by 
which he intends to convey the great and little- 
apprehended truth, that the power of any sense is 
limited by the mental capacity of its owner. The 
idiot, for example, may be possessed of a keener vis- 
ion than the man of sense ; he may be able to dis- 
cern the same object from a greater distance than 
the other ; and yet, both regarding the same near 
scene, the one shall perceive nothing, — shall posi- 
tively gaze on vacancy ; while the other shall see 
demonstrated a problem in Euclid ; the difference 
being not in the visual organ, in which the idiot 
has the advantage, but in the informing mind, 
which opens the eye to the perception of truth. 
Hence, again, two eye-witnesses of the same occur- 
rence (say, a deadly personal combat), standing 
side by side, and both looking on, from its angry 
commencement to its bloody conclusion, will yet, 
when brought into court to testify, give materially 
different, and frequently positively conflicting, ac- 
counts of the affray. And this, from no lack of 
candor, or defect of memory. The same eyes, 
from the same stand-point, it is true, see mechan- 
ically the same things ; but the one gazes on va- 
cancy in effect ; while, to the better-informed mind 
of the other, that action is performed, upon whose 
sinister or kindly significance turns the whole ques- 
tion of guilt or innocence. The well-informed and 
thoughtful counsel understands this principle well ; 



92 THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 

and avails himself of it, if a great lawyer, to fur- 
ther the ends of justice ; if a little man, to secure 
a transient success, or win a splendid fee. 

Now, behind this plain and apparent law of per- 
ception, there slumbers, unawakened by the grasp 
of the world's intellect, a profounder truth, a 
Diviner philosophy. God's grand Apostle of Hu- 
manity, the loving and beloved John, searching 
through all the arcana of affection, had found, and 
with caressing hand had touched and waked it ; 
and its glorious eyes had smiled all their tender 
wisdom into his soul. And this starry truth, won 
from the deeps of Christian contemplation, he 
utters, in the simple great words, " We shall be 
like Him; for we shall see Him as He is." To 
apprehend a Being of holiness and might, is to be 
ourselves robed with purity and girt with power. 
He who saw Christ, and understood his mission, 
became Christ-like, even on earth. The conform- 
ity, in each individual instance, was measured by 
the fidelity of the conception to the true nature 
and offices of the Being conceived: hence the dif- 
ference in Christian attainments, spirituality, piety, 
power; hence, also, that faint perception of the 
Beautiful and True, which glassed itself, for a 
moment, in fickle and sensual minds, soon faded, 
and was replaced by worldly images. Now, but 
one point was necessary to be known, in order to 
measure the possible attainments of Christians both 
in this world and the future ; and that was, whether 
a perfectly faithful apprehension of the character 
of Christ were possible to his followers, either here 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 93 



or hereafter. Of course we speak of his human 
character : his Divine nature, the infinite Sea in 
which all being rolls, none of its denizens could 
hope to fathom or bound. With regard to the 
possibility of such a conception of Christ, on the 
part of Christians, as would absolutely conform 
them to his image on earth, we have no direct tes- 
timony in the Scriptures. A great many incon- 
sistent enthusiasts have maintained it ; and some 
( good and great men have agreed with them. Yet 
the weight of evidence and reason seems against 
it. Christ was " without sin ; " and men, on earth, 
though followers, lovers, and servants of Christ, 
have yet been sinners, both by nature and habit. 
The body, the intellect, the heart, the conscience, 
and the will, have all been, for years, at war with 
good. Admit that, in conversion, man becomes, 
essentially, a new creature ; yet the newness is 
certainly not of the body, nor of the intellect, nor 
of the merely human emotions. Appetite, pro- 
pensity, and all the physical effects of sin, remain. 
Nor memory, nor imagination, is purged of its 
olden stains. A thousand pictures of attractive 
evil are graven deeply on the one ; a thousand 
images of wanton sin float wildly through the 
other. Habit reasserts its ancient power ; though 
it may not subjugate the Soul, and will not, if the 
Soul be true to herself. Still, the woof of sin has 
been woven into the warp of life, and not, it would 
seem, until life's last thread is unraveled, can it 
be wholly freed from that malign influence. In 
still further confirmation of this view, we have the 



94 THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 

fact that no patriarch, prophet, or apostle ever 
claimed such a high attainment ; but, upon the 
contrary, many have expressly disclaimed it : as 
Job, when he said, 61 Though I wash myself with 
snow-water, and make my hands never so clean, 
yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch, and mine 
own clothes shall abhor me ; " and as David, when 
he said, "' I shall be satisfied, when I awake in thy 
likeness ; " evidently alluding to a period subse- 
quent to the sleep of death ; and as St. Paul, when 
he said, " Not as though I had already attained, 
or were yet perfect." And finally, we have the 
strong circumstance, that this state of absolute and 
perfect conformity to the likeness of Christ is held 
up, as by the Apostle in the text, as the great and 
distinctive privilege of the saints in glory ; a cir- 
cumstance which would seem positively to forbid, 
to sober-minded persons, the opposite view of the 
subject. 

Such a complete likeness to the humanity of 
Christ is then possible, to the Christian, in another 
lif e ; when the worn-out shreds of his earthly exist- 
ence shall quicken, under the Master hand, into 
an organism of ideal and purely spiritual powers. 
But to .transform this glowing possibility into a 
glorious certainty, there was needed, first, a Divine 
revelation of the truth, clearly undiscoverable by 
unaided human powers, that such full and perfect 
apprehension of the human Son of God would be 
the grand condition of the Christian's immortal 
life ; and this assurance we have, from the lips of 
the Holy Ghost, in the text : " We shall see Him 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 95 



as He is." These words open to the transforming 
eye of Faith his inner and essential nature. " We 
shall see Him as He is." Not as He seemed to us 
on earth ; not as He seems to the angels in heaven ; 
not as He will seem to all other sentient beings, in 
the universe, forever ; for they have no kinship with 
Him, and we have. We, bone of his bone, flesh 
of his flesh, blood of his blood, heart of his heart, 
thought of his thought, soul of his soul, essence of 
his humanity, — "We shall see Him as He is." 

But there was needed, secondly, to render the 
problem of our future likeness to Christ a trans- 
porting certainty, a knowledge, unknown to the 
schools ; a philosophy, never taught by the philos- 
ophers of earth ; a chemistry, whose elements are 
spiritual, and whose subtile changes no weird al- 
chemist had ever tested ; and this first-rate truth 
of immortal science is lifted, by the strong hands 
of the Apostle, to the light even of our dull and 
clumsy apprehension, and displayed in the magic 
words, " We shall be like Him ; for we shall see 
Him as He is." 

It is worthy of remark, in this connection, that 
the particular era in our existence at which this 
wonderful quickening of our powers of apprehen- 
sion, and this mighty change in the qualities of 
our nature, shall take place, is distinctly marked in 
the text : " when He shall appear." Now, there 
are two future appearances of Christ, to which 
reference is frequently made in the New Testa- 
ment Scriptures. The first is great, terrible, and 
single ; when He shall come, in the clouds of 



96 THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 

heaven, with his Father and the holy angeis, to 
judge the world, in righteousness, and every eye 
shall see Him ; the other when, at the hour of each 
individual saint's death, He shall appear to claim 
his own. In deciding the question, to which of 
these distinct appearances the Apostle refers in 
the text, we have only to remember that he speaks 
of that which concerns alone " the sons of God," 
and not of that which is common to " every eye ; 99 
and we have thus clearly indicated the hour of 
each Christian's death, as that in which he shall 
" see Christ as He is, and be like Him." 

As to the points of that likeness, we shall be 
like Him, first, in the physical conditions of our 
immortal being. And just here we will remark 
that, in our pursuit of the features of this likeness, 
we would substitute imagination by analysis, fancy 
by fact, and reverie by reason. The picture which 
results may be less charming, but will, to sober 
minds, be more attractive ; may be less dazzling, 
but will, on this account, as seen the more dis- 
tinctly, linger the longer on the canvas of the mind. 
The rational basis of our future human likeness to 
Christ is, our common participation with Him in 
all the attributes of humanity. Whatever is pred- 
icable of humanity is predicable of Christ's human- 
ity ; and whatever is predicable of Christ's hu- 
manity is predicable of our own. If, then, by a 
cold and rigid analysis, we discover, among the 
existing conditions of our nature, any which are 
essential, of these we may safely say that they can 
never pass away, and that they will form constitu- 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 97 

ents of Christ's glorified humanity, and therefore 
of our own. And we are encouraged to pursue 
this line of thought by the reflection that whatever 
has no essential properties, is essentially nothing. 
An accidental organism is a contradiction in terms. 
If, then, human nature be something, it has essen- 
tial qualities ; and a little patient search will show 
us where they lurk and in what they consist. 

One of its essential qualities is certainly a phys- 
ical organism. Jesus Christ had a human physical 
organism, and bore it with Him, through the star- 
gates of the Infinite, to his throne in Glory. What 
changes passed upon it, ere it was qualified to 
breathe the atmosphere of heaven, we cannot dis- 
tinctly know. But we do know that they were 
great and marvelous, since flesh and blood are 
" corruptible," and " cannot," on the authority of 
Divine Revelation, "inherit the kingdom of God." 
Whatever these changes, they affected, save to 
beautify and glorify, neither form nor feature ; be- 
cause, first, form and feature are of the essence of 
physical identity, and cannot be changed, in their 
essential verisimilitude, without destroying phys- 
ical identity ; and because, secondly, his disciples 
saw and recognized Him by his physical form and 
features while He was in the act of ascending into 
heaven. Christ, then, preserves in heaven his 
physical identity; and in this, "We shall be like 
Him." 

Again, whatever was the nature of the change 
which passed upon Christ's body, it sufficed to de- 
liver it forever from subjection to material laws. 
7 



98 THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 

Gravitation, for example, could no longer chain it 
to the earth. It became the pure and lofty vehicle 
of spirit. Wherever the mind willed, there the 
body wandered. Far-darting and ethereal as the 
spirit, it annihilated space and time, and inherited 
the freedom of the universe. Its eye saw beyond 
the stars. Its ear caught the melody of harps 
around the Eternal Throne. Its touch penetrated 
the essential qualities of all matter. Its senses in- 
haled the fragrance of the flowers of Paradise, 
drank the dews of immortal youth, and tasted the 
fruits of the tree of life. Heaven became its home, 
and the universe its play-ground. It might linger 
in the one or wander through the other. And all 
this pleasure and power were its physical posses- 
sion forever. And in all this, " We shall be like 
Him ; for we shall see Him as He is." 

But Christ bore with Him to the Heavens, as 
an essential part of his humanity, a human intel- 
lect. Though superior in its powers to most men's, 
and readier in its functions, as that of a sinless 
being naturally would be, it was in nothing super- 
human. Some things it knew, having acquired 
them, as other minds do, by industrious applica- 
tion. Of other things it was ignorant. " The Son 
knoweth not, but the Father," was his own modest 
confession of lack of knowledge. The infirmities 
of the flesh weighed upon his intellectual nature, 
as they weigh upon ours. The laws of his under- 
standing were precisely those which define and 
subject ours. But these were of the flesh : its 
coarse appetites, its degrading feebleness, weighed 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTTTEE STATE. 99 

down the thought that would have soared, held 
back the intelligence that would have tracked 
Truth to the depths and heights of the Infinite. 
But with Christ's freedom from the flesh came the 
emaucipation of his intellect from its wearying 
bondage. Henceforth, all lore was open to the 
eye, all science friendly to the curiosity of his 
mind. Over God's grand volume of the eternal 
ages past, where all fact and all philosophy com- 
bine to illustrate the truth, it might pore ; or in 
the divine laboratory, whence grew the forming 
worlds, under the touch of infinite Skill ; or, at 
ten thousand other founts, where knowledge ran 
like water, it might quench its thirst for truth, and 
so, through immortal ages, grow stronger in that 
wisdom which is the might of all intellect. And, 
in all this, " We shall be like Him ; for we shall 
see Him as He is." 

Again, our Saviour took with Him into heaven 
a nature all human in its emotions, sentiments, 
and affections. Every social longing which has 
ever thrilled a human breast with that strange 
pain the heart feels when it aches for sympathy 
and love, or with their wild excess, had its coun- 
terpart in his bosom. " He was tempted in all 
points like unto us, yet without sin." But, in all 
these things, his was a harder lot than falls to the 
saddest son of earth, whom, for his sorrows and 
disappointments, we term broken-hearted. Christ's 
human nature was more purely tender, more in- 
tensely loving, more lavish of its generous sympa- 
thies. And yet he was insulated by his strange 



100 THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 

mission from all human ties. The Spirit warned 
Him continually that He had come to suffer and to 
die. Who could understand or sympathize with 
Him ? He was solemnly, ineffably alone. Every 
exhibition even of maternal tenderness must have 
tortured while it thrilled Him, knowing as He did 
all the time that a sword " would pierce her heart," 
and that his hand was destined to hold it. To in- 
flict pain on those who love us, and whom we love ; 
pain, the necessity of which they cannot under- 
stand ; and while their suffering eyes look re- 
proachfully into ours ; is there another pang on 
earth which so lacerates the tender heart ? Play 
the surgeon for your own child, if you can. And 
Christ knew human friendship, — friendship so 
tender and true, that, when its object died, not all 
the strength of his grand nature could sustain, un- 
moved, the shock of that great grief. " Jesus 
wept ! " Well might the Jews say, " Behold, how 
He loved him ! " Loved him ! It was the " loud 
voice " of his yearning soul that pierced the " dull, 
cold ear " of death, and brought him back to earth ! 
And is it not told us, that Jesus loved this man's 
sisters, too ? and especially her, we may infer, who 
sat at his feet, and learned all meekly the eternal 
truths which He came to teach ? And who can 
measure this love ? Who can say that the hu- 
man heart of the Son of man thrilled not, as only 
human hearts can, under the power of woman's 
beauty, and purity, and truth? How else could 
the Apostle say of Him, " He was tempted, in all 
points, like unto us ? " And if, indeed, it were so, 



THE MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE STATE. 101 

and He turned aside from the allurements of this 
fond human love, and the sweet vision of an earthly 
home which it presented, to walk onward, in his 
high and lonely path, to the Grand Agony, does it 
not help us to realize more truly and tenderly the 
sorrows which He bore for us ? Now this warm, 
tender heart, with it loves and friendships, Christ 
took with Him into Glory. And there the heart, 
like the intellect, threw off its long earthly chain, 
and gave itself to love. There the tender mother 
could be comforted, by the presence, felt, though 
unseen, of her lost one. There, side by side with 
Friendship, and ever near the loved, might He 
linger, until, "like Him," freed by death from in- 
firmity, they might join Him in the skies, and 
dwell with Him, in the bliss of unrestrained com- 
munion, forever. There, too, He would have fel- 
lowship with all saints and angels, and learn the 
mysteries of that sublime passion which fills the 
breast of God, and gave his Son, Himself, to die 
for a lost and guilty race. And, in all this, 14 We 
shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is." 

" Because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the 
Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying Abba, 
Father." If we have this Spirit, — if He dwell 
in our hearts, — we may comfort ourselves to-day 
with this splendid promise : " We shall be like 
Him; for we shall see Him as He is." If not, 
let us despair of ourselves, and seek earnestly the 
Spirit of adoption, that like precious comfort may 
be ours. 



IX. 

A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

"Some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment; 
and some men they follow after. Likewise, also, the good works of 
some are manifest beforehand, and they that are otherwise cannot be 
bid."— 1 Tim. v. 24,25. 

That inequalities, for which it is difficult to ac- 
count, exist in the present life, is apparent to all ; 
and they have led different minds to opposite con- 
clusions. Some, looking only on the surface of 
things, have taken these inequalities in evidence 
that God maintains, over the world, no moral 
government. They see the innocent suffer, and 
they ask, Where is the Almighty Friend and Pro- 
tector of innocence ? They see the guilty escape, 
and they demand, Where is the retributive justice 
of Heaven ? Let such persons be patient. The 
day of final judgment will reveal all they seek to 
know. 

Others again, looking into the matter more 
deeply, and reasoning upon it more clearly, see in 
such inequalities nothing to shake their confidence 
in the goodness and justice of God, but upon the 
contrary much to confirm it. These things they 
regard as the legitimate effects of sin, with which 
God may not interfere directly and forcibly with- 
out seriously disturbing those principles of moral 



A YIXDICATIOX OF THE DIYDsE JUSTICE. 103 



agency and liuman probation upon which his gov- 
ernment of the world is based. 

" Some men's sins are open beforehand," says 
the text, and the meaning of this clause it first 
concerns us to ascertain. And for this purpose, 
let us consider the consequences of dissipation, vice, 
and crime to that class of men whose sins are open 
beforehand. One of the usual effects of dissipa- 
tion on such persons is the loss of health. Some 
infirmity in their physical constitution forbids them 
to riot with impunity. Their intemperance is vis- 
ited and punished by sickness. The wild excite- 
ment of pleasure is followed by the fiercer frenzy 
of pain. Every thrill of ecstasy is succeeded by 
a pang of anguish. And while these are at first 
only occasional, the frequency of excess soon ren- 
ders them habitual. The confirmed profligate be- 
comes at length a confirmed invalid ; and the 
demon of disease poisons and embitters every cup 
of happiness which life can offer to his lip. 

Equally fatal is the effect of dissipation upon 
their property. Though rich when they set out on 
this career, they soon become poor. They are sin- 
gularly unfortunate in every adventure. Do they 
visit the gaming table ? It is only to suffer loss. 
Do they associate with the dissolute and unprinci- 
pled ? It is only to become the victims of then' 
artifice. Do they embark in speculation ? Their 
frail vessel is speedily wrecked among the rocks 
and quicksands of that treacherous sea. Every 
stake is a misfortune, every hazard a blow, under 
which their estate is rapidly and surely crumbling 



104 A VINDICATION" OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

away. Poverty, an almost invariable consequence 
on such a course of life, soon follows. Then all 
their illusions are dispelled. They awake. Their 
many friends are gone. Only the reality of their 
misery is around them, and the consciousness of 
their folly within. 

Under the same baneful influence of dissipation, 
the mind of this class of persons is equally a suf- 
ferer with their body and estate. The discipline 
which might give it health and power is rejected 
as irksome. The temperance which could alone 
preserve the even balance of its faculties is a re- 
straint to which they are unwilling to submit. 
The ascendancy is given up to the passions, by 
a course of life bearing about as much analogy 
to the useful and the true as a florid work of fic- 
tion sustains to the sober records of history. The 
fatal effect is soon apparent. The miserable vic- 
tim of dissipation may turn and writhe, but he 
cannot escape. With a body enervated by luxury 
and racked by disease, with a fortune squandered 
in extravagance, he finds himself, in what ought to 
be the meridian of his life and the flower of his 
strength, destitute of the energy which should over- 
come the accumulated evils which he has brought 
upon himself, and of the fortitude which might rob 
them of their sting by a manly endurance. 

Such are the effects of dissipation, as seen in the 
greater proportion of its victims, on that class of 
men whose sins are open beforehand. But, while 
dissipation renders them personally miserable, their 
vices make them socially despicable. By the re- 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 105 

ligious, they are shunned as a moral contagion, 
whose touch is pollution, and whose embrace would 
be death. Their offenses against this class have 
been too numerous and too aggravated to be read- 
ily overlooked. What religious father would select 
a companion for his son from the ranks of the no- 
toriously profligate ? What pious mother would 
welcome such an one to the sacred precincts of her 
domestic circle? Pity him they may, pray for 
him they must, but they are under no obligation 
to take him to their home, or to treat him socially 
with anything save the contempt which his con- 
duct merits. 

But it is not alone in the eyes of the religious 
that these persons are despicable. The grave mor- 
alist bends on them his darkest frown. Nor ought 
this to be matter of surprise. They have wounded 
him in a more vital part. They have dealt sacri- 
legious blows at the structure upon which rest his 
hopes of happiness for the world to come. They 
have shocked his moral principles and wounded 
his moral feelings, and, of course, they are repro- 
bate, according to all the terms of his code. 

But what might seem really surprising is, that 
they are shunned by another class not less guilty, 
but more fortunate, than themselves. These are 
the fashionably dissolute, the genteelly vicious, the 
popularly criminal, who hide their vices under the 
garb of virtue, — 

" Stealing the livery of heaven to serve the devil in." 

None are so merciless as these. None so quickly 
start and shudder at the bare recital of vice, and 



106 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

so remorselessly persecute the unfortunate victims 
of its degrading influence. And why not ? Their 
righteous souls are vexed with the stupidity of 
those poor fools who venture upon such a career 
without summoning to their aid the cardinal virtue 
of hypocrisy. 

Thus met, by the religious, with a pity whose 
principal ingredient is the most degrading con- 
tempt ; by the moralist, with a withering frown ; 
and by the hypocrite, with the relentless venom of 
persecution : it is no wonder that these miserable 
wretches (whose misfortune it seems to be that 
their sins are open beforehand) are at last driven 
to crime. But here, again, the same dark destiny 
seems to pursue and overtake them. Speedy ex- 
posure and punishment follow. They reach the 
last round in the descent, only to learn that its 
name is infamy. They become the loathing of the 
world. Their blackened names are hung on high, 
as targets for the shafts of wit and malice ; while 
their blackened bodies swing from the gibbet or 
fester in the felon's cell. 

Such are the men whose " sins are open before- 
hand, going before to judgment." They seek 
pleasure in dissipation, and they find only pain. 
They seek excitement in vice ; and they find, alas ! 
too late, that its wages are degradation and dis- 
grace. They turn in despair to crime, and behold ! 
its reward is death. 

" Some men's sins are open beforehand, going 
before to judgment ; and some men they follow 
after." We conceive that reference is had, in the 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 107 

latter clause, to a class of perspns whose history, 
in the present life, is, in one respect at least, the 
reverse of all that we have just seen. Their sins, 
in a most emphatic sense, are not open beforehand. 
They plunge recklessly into the vortex of dissipa- 
tion, and they come forth apparently unharmed. 
The shocks of intemperance seem to produce no 
effect upon their iron constitution. The wildest 
midnight revel cannot shake their nerves. The 
constitutional hardihood of such a man is his pride 
and his boast. He is the very prince of bumpers. 
His potations are ever longest and deepest. He 
never fails to conquer in that ignoble strife. In 
the haunts of dissipation you may behold him, the 
presiding deity of the bacchanalian orgie ; and as 
his besotted companions, one after another, fall 
from the table, leaving him alone, his laugh of 
drunken triumph rings out upon the solemn night. 
But he dreams not that his laurels are gathered 
and woven of the nightshade of Hell, and that the 
hand that binds them on his brow leaves there a 
devil's brand. He recks not, if he know, that the 
honors of such a victory the Arch-fiend of perdi- 
tion alone should covet. 

In the matter of their property, also, the con- 
trasting parallel holds good. Their losses are 
repaired by gains. Speculation pours its golden 
harvest at their feet. Prosperity sheds its bright- 
est rays upon their heads. To use their own 
favorite phrase, they are lucky men. The gam- 
bler's hell — which as many an unfortunate wretch 
can attest is appropriately named — is to them a 



108 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

sort of earthly heaven. There they pocket their 
golden mnnings, and thence they ever come with 
a quick step and a light heart. Thus, in a pe- 
cuniary sense, their sins are not open beforehand. 
One of the usual consequences of dissipation, as 
the experience of hundreds of profligates proves, 
is loss of fortune. But the rule seems to suffer an 
exception in favor of the men we are describing. 

Again, their minds do not appear to suffer. 
The mental constitution of these men seems to 
partake of the hardihood of the physical. They 
are as good accountants, as prudent advisers, as 
skillful practitioners when half-intoxicated as when 
perfectly sober. And so, with all their excesses, 
they continue strong. Middle age finds them, it 
is true, with nearly all the frolicsome temper of 
youth ; but it also finds them with more than all 
the intellectual vigor of youth. But though, to 
all human appearance, neither health, fortune, nor 
mind be injured by dissipation, their career, when 
we regard it rightly, seems still a mournful and 
miserable one. They remind us of a strong ship, 
launched by an ignorant or careless hand among 
the breakers ; where, though it is possible that she 
may long withstand the shocks which would speed- 
ily destroy a frailer bark, she must, in the end, 
inevitably go down. 

But let us draw the line of distinction a little 
closer. Vice ought always to purchase, for its sub- 
ject, the detestation of the community in which he 
lives ; and it commonly does. But here again the 
rule seems to suffer an exception in favor of the 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 109 

men whom we are now trying to describe. Their 
vices are winked at. " Little irregularities ! Tri- 
fling peccadilloes ! 0, he means no harm by it ! 
he is the best-hearted fellow in the world ! " Such 
are the terms which serve to indicate their insults 
to the religious feelings and good order of society. 
It would seem that, from the crowd of their ex- 
cusers and apologists, the professedly religious, at 
least, should stand firmly aloof. But we fear that 
this is not always — that it is not even generally — 
the case. And why not ? Because of the liberal- 
ity of these men. " He aids in supporting our min- 
ister : how can I offend him with the truth ? He 
contributes largely — more largely, indeed, than 
many of its members of equal or superior pecun- 
iary ability — to all the benevolent enterprises of 
my Church ! How shall I go about to tell him 
of his sins ? I fear he will not take it kindly." 
Thus they escape the censure of the good. 

And the moralist is equally kind, on account of 
their public spirit. They are indeed, in one sense, 
valuable citizens, They are foremost in every en- 
terprise looking to the improvement of the city, or 
the town, or the neighborhood in which they may 
happen to reside. If a road is to be constructed, 
they are among the heaviest stockholders. If a 
church or school edifice is to be erected, their 
names head the subscription list. And so, in 
every liberal, public-spirited movement, they are 
among the pioneers. They lead, they form public 
opinion. With all this, they are men of polished 
manners, and pleasant address. It is therefore not 



110 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

so strange, that their neighbors cannot find it in 
their hearts to judge them rigorously. 

Among the vulgarly vicious, of course they are 
popular. Their example is valuable. It is some 
consolation to the street drunkard who wallows in 
the gutter, and starves and beats his wife and chil- 
dren, that he can point, in seeming justification 
of his indulgence in this brutal propensity, to the 
genteel excesses of his wealthy and respectable 
neighbor. It is certainly pleasing to the depraved 
gambler, who has perhaps beggared and deserted 
a family, and sunk every generous and virtuous 
principle of his character in the gulf of his damn- 
ing calling, that once in a while he is admitted into 
good society ; for he reckons these popular gentle- 
men among his patrons, his intimates, his friends. 
It is doubtless a satisfaction to the loathsome 
wretch who has outraged every social and domestic 
relation ; whom no tie of honor, or of nature, how- 
ever sacred, can bind ; whose foul foot has soiled, 
like a serpent's trail, every domestic hearthstone 
that it has ever pressed : that he has, before his 
eyes, so eminent an example of conjugal infidelity. 

But let us proceed still further with the com- 
parison. Let us suppose these popular gentlemen 
guilty of crimes — of crimes which bring them as 
culprits to the bar of their country's justice. The 
thing is, by no means impossible. Nay, it has 
often occurred. And with what result ? Why, 
simply this : that the trial which ought to conclude 
with their just sentence of condemnation, is almost 
certain to end in their acquittal. Their position 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. Ill 

screens them. The law is said to have a hard 
gripe ; but somehow it always touches the rich and 
great very tenderly. Their influence insures sup- 
port. They are hedged in by their rank. They 
belong to a class always reluctant to witness the 
degradation of itself in one of its members. And 
besides, their money corrupts justice. That is the 
simple truth about it. O ! it is wonderful to tell, 
how eloquent is gold ! how it stirs up the heart's 
deep passions ! how feelingly it pleads ! what a 
world of pathos in its ring ! what a melting per- 
suasiveness in its glitter ! And then, at the last, 
how convincingly it falls upon the palm ! Where is 
the iron judge that can sit unmoved under that 
appeal ? Where is the stoic jury whose hearts do 
not melt under its magic touch ? Strange, indeed, 
it would be, if the threefold power of rank, popu- 
larity, and gold could not purchase, for its favor- 
ites, the trifling immunity of crime. 

The text continues : " Likewise, also, the good 
works of some are manifest beforehand." It will 
be seen, at once, that a class of persons, in all 
respects the converse of both those already de- 
scribed, is here indicated. Those were worldlings ; 
these are Christians. Those were the servants of 
Satan ; these are the children of the Heavenly 
King. To this class, as to the former two, we 
apply the test of real life and every-day observa- 
tion, to illustrate the proposition of the text, — 
their good works are manifest beforehand. 

Their virtues win esteem. Their piety is ac- 
knowledged and respected. They have the con 



112 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

fidence of the community in which, they live. The 
term, canting hypocrite, is never applied to them. 
And yet, beyond all question, they are men who 
honestly embrace the faith of the Gospel, and 
fervently and firmly maintain it ; but they are 
exempted, for reasons best known to Him who 
reads all hearts, from the sterner tests of Christian 
fortitude. It may be that their trials are propor- 
tioned to their strength ; that the light of virtue, 
which burns so brightly and so calmly in the 
smooth tenor of their lives, would go out, if it 
were exposed to the rough blasts of adversity and 
the fierce floods of persecution. We cannot tell. 
The cause is hidden ; but the fact is apparent to 
all who observe and think. 

Again, their benevolence is praised. They are 
men of feeling hearts and open hands. The 
prayers of many cottages call down blessings on 
their heads. In the hearts of many poor they 
have built themselves an altar, whereon Gratitude 
lays her morning and her evening sacrifices. The 
sails of the missionary ship which passes them are 
filled with a golden breeze. In their hands, the 
Word of God takes wing and flies to the uttermost 
parts of the earth. Every enterprise, looking to the 
moral, intellectual, or physical amelioration of the 
condition of their fellow-men, receives from them 
honest sympathy and effective cooperation. As a 
matter of course, these men are appreciated, and 
their praise is in all the churches. 

As a consequence of this appreciation, their so- 
ciety is courted. They enjoy, to the full, all the 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 113 

chaste and real pleasures of life. In their hours 
of relaxation .they are surrounded by the intelli- 
gent, the gifted, and the beautiful. To them the 
world seems all sunshine, all flowers, all happiness. 
Socially, how enviable is their lot ! 

They succeed in life. Their industry secures 
affluence. Thousands of sunny acres wave for 
them a green, or white, or golden harvest. Many 
a stately edifice proclaims their enterprise. Many 
a proud ship is freighted with their merchandise. 
Money in hand, and stock in bank and public im- 
provements, and all the means and appliances' of 
wealth are theirs. 

Their talents elevate them to office. In the 
Church they are considerable men, and deservedly 
so. They bring to her service willing hands, and 
experienced heads, and honest hearts. Envy trem- 
bles at the responsibilities of their high place, 
while she covets its honors ; and if Conceit would 
climb to their side, and essays to do so, being blind, 
he almost always loses his foot-hold and falls to the 
ground. 

And it does occasionally happen that, as citi- 
zens, they are not less valued than as churchmen. 
The suffrages of their friends call them to the oc- 
cupancy of important and responsible stations in 
the civil government. Their names rank high in 
the political history of their country. And there 
are instances on record where individuals of the 
class we are describing have been called upon to 
lead their country's armies and to fight her battles ; 
and an appeal to the God of Battles has justified 
8 



114 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

their appointment ; and a grateful people lias hailed 
them as their nation's deliverers, and delighted to 
do them honor ; and their names have been handed 
down to posterity as synonyms for exalted piety 
and pure patriotism. 

Now, we join not in the hue and cry so often 
raised against prosperous and popular men, merely 
because they are prosperous and popular. We are 
content to be governed by the wisdom of Jesus, — 
the wisdom which judges of the tree by its fruits, 
of the faith by the works. If, from some mount- 
ain side familiar to my eye, there gushes a crystal 
stream, whose course adown its side, and through 
the neighboring valley is garlanded with flowers, 
and compassed with life, and verdure, and fresh- 
ness, and bloom, shall I not know, from these liv- 
ing and blooming witnesses, which everywhere 
begird its track, that its waters are pure, even 
though their source be hidden from my eye, deep 
in the flinty bosom of the rock ? And so, when I 
see a human life, like that fair stream, taking 
through the meadows of Time the quiet tenor of 
its gentle way, while ever and anon, along its path- 
way there spring up the fair flowers of purity, and 
kindness, and temperance, and tenderness, and love, 
may I not know as well, from these generous tokens, 
that the source of that life is pure, even though 
hidden from all eyes deep in the inscrutable re- 
cesses of a human heart ? We devoutly thank 
God that the Church has such men, and we wish 
that she had more of them, a thousand to one. 

The text introduces to our notice still another 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 115 

class. While the good works of these men are 
manifest beforehand, there are some " that are 
otherwise ; " which means, simply, that their good 
works are not manifest beforehand. 

Poverty not unfrequently hides real merit. One's 
honesty is often doubted, for no better reason than 
because he is poor ; he is not pecuniarily responsi- 
ble, he cannot make a good note. This, with many 
people, determines the fate of every application 
for their assistance. It is thought, if a man be 
not well-to-do in the world, that he ought to be ; 
that it is his own fault if he is unfortunate and 
miserable. He must have been wanting in the car- 
dinal virtues. He must have lacked industry, or 
economy, or honesty, or all three. At all events, 
he has no right to be wretched, and to parade his 
misery before us. So reasons the world : if a man 
be poor, he must, perforce, be dishonest. 

Again, their benevolence is despised. They love 
the cause of God as well as the rich man, and they 
esteem it a privilege to contribute of their hard 
earnings for its support. But when they come 
forward with their humble offering, the rich man 
smiles. A very amiable smile, doubtless, he con- 
siders it, too ; made up of some pride, a little pity, 
and a great deal of contempt. But O, it is galling 
to the poor man's soul ! They listen to the claims 
of the missionary cause, or of some other benevo- 
lent enterprise, as they are advocated by one — 

" Upon whose lip the mystic bee hath dropped the honey of persua- 
sion; " 

and they long to send out some bread, though it 



116 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

be but a crumb, upon these waters, trusting in the 
promise of Scripture that they " shall find it after 
many days ; " but they are deterred by a fear of the 
contempt with which their humble pittance will be 
received. Albeit, we might well remember how, in 
the olden time, when the people were casting their 
rich gifts into the treasury of the Temple, there 
came a poor widow and cast in two mites ; and how 
there stood by One who said, " She hath given 
more than they all." 

But what is still harder to bear, the poor Chris- 
tian's piety is ridiculed. There are persons, calling 
themselves ladies and gentlemen, who, passing by 
the poor man's dwelling, can find matter for mock- 
ery in the tones and terms of his humble worship ; 
who can even enter the house of God, and turn his 
prayers and praises into ridicule ; who habitually 
sneer at all his religious exercises, and call him 
hypocrite, madman, and fanatic. 

But, while in respect of his honesty, his benevo- 
lence, and his piety, the poor Christian is misun- 
derstood, misrepresented, and scorned, he has yet 
sorer ills with which to contend. Misfortune 
blights his hopes, and makes perpetual war on all 
his prospects. He struggles long and desperately 
for comfort and competence. Sometimes he is par- 
tially successful. He gets something ahead. He 
begins to accumulate. He allows himself, at last, to 
hope. He dwells, with pleasant anticipations, on 
the decline of life. He thinks of the good time 
coming, and now near at hand, when, in his own 
home, and surrounded by his loved ones, he can 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 117 



wait patiently for the Master's call. But some 
sudden and unlooked-for reverse sweeps away the 
purchase of his toil and self-denial, and leaves him 
again destitute. 

In the midst of his discouragements, sickness 
comes to incapacitate him for further efforts. With 
a suffering family around him, he lies upon a bed 
of pain. And who can paint his feelings as he lies 
there, and gazes upon the scanty food and insuffi- 
cient clothing of those dear and helpless ones for 
whom he is powerless to strike one stroke, but for 
whose sake he would gladly, if he could, coin into 
gold all 

" The ruddy drops which visit his sad heart." 

But even here he does not murmur ; he is not quite 
comfortless ; for woman's heroic fortitude and child- 
hood's trusting faith are with him still, in the ten- 
der offices of conjugal and filial love. He blesses 
God for these, and he is almost happy. 

But a harder trial than all awaits him here. 
Affection's cheek grows pale. The eye of Love is 
getting dim and languid. The bounding step of 
Youth is losing its elasticity. A fearful guest is 
on his threshold, who never stops for welcome. It 
is Death — grim death — come to frighten, with 
ghastly brow, the last gleam of happiness from his 
hearth ! come to steal, with cold, skeleton hand, 
the last treasure from his home ! come to rend, 
with that resistless scythe he bears, the last fond 
links which bind the broken-hearted man to earth ! 

Next comes persecution to try his faith. He is 
slandered. Evil and unjust reports of his charac- 



118 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

ter and acts are circulated. He is shunned by all 
his neighbors and acquaintances. His brethren of 
the Church even begin to doubt him. His minis- 
ter looks on him with a coldly suspicious eye, and 
deems it hardly worth his while to pay him a pas- 
toral visit. The old man is desolate, indeed ! 

Thus friendless and forsaken, he is an appro- 
priate mark for all reckless, cruel, and unscrupu- 
lous wrong. The coarse and brutal jest with his 
misery, and rob him with a laugh. He struggles 
hard for a meagre subsistence ; and even this is 
sometimes snatched, in wanton spite, from his 
hand. 

To crown all, let us suppose him driven from his 
Church, from his home, compelled to wander as a 
mendicant from door to door, and subsist upon the 
crumbs which fall from the tables of the happy 
and prosperous, and, dying at last, it 's only a 
pauper dead. 

" Then rattle his hones 
Over the stones : 
It 's only a pauper whom nohody owns." 

Nobody owns ? Nobody owns ? — 

" Angel harps are ringing, 
Angel lips are singing 

Heavenly melodies : 
For him, the lowly born, — 
For him, the worldling's scorn; 

Hark ! they rise ! " 

But our ears are too earthly dull to catch the notes 
of that celestial song. We hear nothing, we see 
nothing, only a pauper dead. Here the body of 
the dead saint is thrust carelessly under the turf 
by cold, official hands, and we pass on to our busi- 



A VINDICATION" OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 119 

ness or our pleasure. Now, do not say " This is 
but a fancy sketch," for there have been in the 
■world just such Christians ; and they have passed, 
from the outcasts of humanity and the compassion 
of brutes, to a home " in Abraham's bosom." 

And why not ? Shall the unhappy, unfortunate, 
suff ering, and persecuted Christian, after a life of 
failure, die in misery and disgrace at last, and no 
reward follow his life-long wretchedness ? Shall 
the prosperous sinner revel in dissipation, vice, and 
crime, die with 44 no bands" in his death, and es- 
cape forever ? Xot such is the teaching of natural 
justice, or of the Divine Word. Let us look once 
more at the text : 44 Some men's sins are open be- 
forehand, going before to judgment; and some 
men they follow after" O, this " following after " 
must be a fearful thing. The sinner must account, 
in the other world, for that dissipation which he 
boasted could not injure him in this. His human 
strength and hardihood have withstood the shocks 
of intemperate appetite and passion in this world, 
but how will they sustain the fires of hell ? The 
wealth which enabled him here to gratify every de- 
sire of his heart, will not there avail to purchase him 
even 44 a drop of water to cool his tongue." The 
strong mind which, in this world, was proof against 
every species of debauch, will there find employ- 
ment in enhancing, by its keener conception and 
more comprehensive grasp of the pleasures and 
privileges forfeited, the torments its possessor must 
eternally endure. That reckoning will teach him 
the value of the money which has gone to support 
the gambler's hell, to deck the harlot's home, and 



120 A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 

to brutalize and degrade his fellow-men. God's 
wrath will teach him the value of the talents which 
he has prostituted and debased. Eternity will 
convince him of the worth of time. And, per- 
haps, as a climax to his misery, he will see, afar 
off, " in Abraham's bosom," that wretched and 
unfortunate Christian whom, in this world, he 
looked on but to loathe, and named but to con- 
temn. 

Very different will be the despised Christian's 
future ; and very different it ought to be. In this 
world he has his evil things ; in the next, ought 
he not to have his good things ? Here, his hon- 
esty is doubted because he is poor. The rich and 
great look coldly and suspiciously upon him. 
There, he will meet with Him who said, " Blessed 
are the poor;" and who saw and sympathized 
with all the sorrows of his heart. And as that 
blessed Saviour shall take him by the hand, with 
the plaudit, " Well done, good and faithful," will 
he not be more than compensated for earthly pov- 
erty ? 

Here, his benevolence is contemned. Men think 
lightly of his gifts, though sanctified by earnest 
prayer. There, he will meet with Him who saw 
all the self-sacrificing devotion of his poor offer- 
ings. And when the lips of Infinite Tenderness 
shall say, " Thou hast given more than they all," 
will he care for man's misjudgment ? 

In this world his piety is ridiculed, because its 
modes of expression are awkward and uncultivated. 
Many a scoff and jeer fall heavily upon his heart. 
But when he shall find that such piety as his is 



A VINDICATION OF THE DIVINE JUSTICE. 121 

current at the gate of Paradise, will he be any 
longer grieved for the ridicule of the world ? 

Here, he meets with many losses of property. 
He has to struggle hard with adversity. He is 
discouraged by repeated failures. He is as honest, 
as industrious, as economical as any man. He rises 
early, he toils late, he eats the bread of careful- 
ness. But somehow he cannot succeed. His whole 
life is one long temporal disaster. But will not 
the Kingdom of Heaven, which is his, atone for 
all this ? 

Here, he suffers, being afflicted. His energies 
are paralyzed by disease. He lies long on " beds 
of pain." There, — 

"Angel Health, with radiant wing, 
Sits ever on the breeze." 

Here, he suffers by the loss of friends. The 
tender ties of conjugal, parental, and filial love 
are sundered by the hand of death. He looks 
with yearning agony upon the faces of his dead. 
He follows them to the grave, and feels as he turns 
away as if his own heart lay buried with them 
there. But who, think you, will give him the 
first warm greeting when his foot presses the shores 
of the better land ? What eyes will there beam 
brightest ? Whose embrace will there be fondest ? 
Why, those very loved ones whose bodies " he 
buried out of his sight " in the cold earth ! And 
will not the joys of such a reunion more than com- 
pensate for all the pangs of separation ? 

Thus all the temporal inequalities of man's 
earthly life will find immortal atonement in the 
life to come. 



X. 



THE " GRACE OF JESUS " AND THE " LOVE OF GOD." 

"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my 
voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, 
and he with me." — Kev. iii. 20. 

Picture to yourself, a "lone, volcanic isle," 
surrounded by an illimitable sea, whose turgid bil- 
lows, breaking ever on the rocky shore, sound the 
deep bass of nature's monody — the rhythmic thun- 
ders of the rolling years ; and where no scene of 
beauty ever shines, and no sound of cheerful glad- 
ness is ever heard ; where all is drear, and sad, and 
hard, and gray, and chill, and desolate ; where nor 
flower nor fruit is ever seen ; where the fires and 
ashes of the impending crater have scattered per- 
petual bleakness and desolation over all ; where the 
atmosphere is foul and damp and sickening, with 
the poisonous vapors of the volcano ; over which 
the mist and smoke and cloud hang a drapery of 
perpetual gloom, through which the sun and moon 
and stars are but faintly and occasionally seen, and 
never shine with any cheering, or beautiful or at- 
tractive light ; an island, the production, in fact, of 
volcanic forces, under the sea, which have heaved 
it into the upper world, and which suddenly and 
unexpectedly again, in their season, will whelm it 
in the deep. 



THE "GRACE OF JESUS," ETC. 123 

Picture to yourself, on this island, a solitary 
human dweller. How he came thither, he knows 
not. How long he must remain there, he under- 
stands not. What is best for him to do while 
there, he comprehends not. Only, he has heard 
or dreamed, or it has somehow reached his con- 
sciousness, that he is the product of the creative 
power, and the object of the provident tenderness 
of some Being, unseen and mysterious, who fur- 
nishes him, on condition of much painful toil, a 
precarious subsistence. 

Of course, the place is haunted. There are 
demons of the fire, and demons of the deep, all 
around him. There are drunken Trinculos, and 
foul Calibans ; and these he chooses for his famil- 
iars, rather than the delicate and faithful Ariels, 
whom, if he would, he might imprison and bind to 
his grateful service forever. The fiends deceive 
and win him. They have no power — because 
restrained by the unseen Master Hand — to coerce 
and destroy him. Taught by them, and with the 
rude materials at hand, he builds himself a house ; 
covers and shutters it with the sea-drift of unknown 
wrecks ; bars the door against all intruders ; and 
shuts himself up to revelry and riot. And now, 
with every night-fall, over the waves of the solemn 
sea, there comes a shadowy bark, held and guided 
by a single hand ; and its owner lands, staggering 
under a heavy burden, approaches the massy door 
of the fiend-built house, and knocks. All unheard 
or unheeded, still he knocks. All night long, in 
every pause of the fierce din within, still he knocks. 



124 



THE "GRACE OF JESUS " 



And knocks in vain. No door is opened — no bolt 
withdrawn — till the weary morning dawns ; and 
then the sad and gentle stranger reenters the 
shadowy bark, and is wafted far from the solitary 
isle, and its wretched denizen. 

Such is a faint sketch of the picture, flung upon 
the canvas of the soul, by the magic pencil of In- 
spiration, in the simple utterance of the words of 
the text. The solitary island is this earth. The 
surrounding ocean is eternity. The lonely occu- 
pant is man. The fiend-built house is the edifice 
of his temporal fortunes. The night-falls are the 
lulls and pauses in the stormy ardor of his temporal 
pursuits. The shadowy bark, floating up from 
the eternal distance and bearing a single form, is 
Revelation bringing the Son of God to the rescue 
of man. The door of the house is the fortuitous 
side of life ; which man, fiend-aided, bolts and bars 
with all the forces of his intellect and heart. The 
" knock " of the Son of God is the Divine solici- 
tation of man's attention through the sudden and 
unexpected changes of his temporal fortunes. The 
opening of the door is the flinging wide of all the 
spirit's hoarded wealth, to the control and govern- 
ment of God. The coming in and supping of the 
Son of God with man is the friendly and intimate 
communion of the Divine with the human, when 
the door of selfish possession is once thrown open 
for the entrance of the Master of all. 

In this highly, and even wildly, figurative view 
of the subject, we are sustained by the plain and 
apparent suggestions of the Holy Ghost, in the 



AND THE "LOVE OF GOD." 125 

text, and confirmed by the evidence of admitted 
facts. The wildness is that of the actual scenery ; 
whose savage and sterile features the hand of no 
human artist can adequately paint. If the glance 
of an unfallen spirit, standing on the nearest point 
to us of an unfallen world, were capable of reach- 
ing this world, and intelligently marking its con- 
dition, the figures which we have used would seem 
tame and inexpressive to him. As for us, we 
stand too near — we mingle too closely with the 
scene — to behold it as it is, even when our men- 
tal vision is aided by the perspective of Revelation. 

So far as we know, or can understand, this tem- 
poral world is a solitary and desolate island of 
creation, lifted by unseen hands into the light of 
our present consciousness, and destined again, at 
some period near or far, to sink in the eternal 
surge that washes all around it. It is volcanic, too, 
with evil fires, and liable to the most terrible ir- 
ruptions ; as witness earthquake and tornado, fire 
and flood, pestilence and war ; the voices that issue, 
ever and anon, from the black lips of that crater 
of hell which crowns the loftiest peak of Time. 
Crimes, like coals and fire-brands, are evermore 
scattered far and wide, and secret sins are strewn, 
like the ashes of sulphuric desolation, into every 
nook and crevice of the moral world. The verdure 
and beauty of all human virtues are withered and 
blighted, or scorched and scarred and stunted, like 
the sapless and half -dying' shrubs that cling to the 
desolate sides of a volcanic hill. Evil holds its 
sullen reign, and flaunts its colors of bleakness and 



126 



THE " GRACE OF JESUS" 



blackness in every breeze that stirs the ashes of 
this lone and solitary isle of being. 

And eternity is all around it. Wave on wave 
— an illimitable sea — it extends on every side. 
It holds us at its mercy. Its surf is ever beat- 
ing on our shores, and sounding in our ears. Its 
breezes chill or warm or cheer us, as they come, 
from the mystic distance, through the open door- 
way of our expectant souls. Its storms sweep over 
us with terrific power ; we feel ourselves shaken 
and tossed and buffeted by the tempests of the 
wide Unknown. There, too, in the dim distance, 
we see the lights of other worlds, and wonder of 
their fate ; — wonder and speculate and dream, but 
never know. We are alone, in the midst of an 
eternal sea. 

" ! this mystical, magical world ! 
And this strangely conscious life ! 
And the sullen car, in which we are whirled ! 
And the elements all at strife ! 

" Strife within and strife without! 

Strife in nature and strife between men ! 
And still in our souls, the maddest rout, 
Far from the reach of mortal ken ! 

" And over all, a terrible calm 

Reigns on earth, and reigns on high ; 
Mocking our noise with its silent psalm ; 
Shaming our din with its voiceless cry ! ,; 

So cries aloud, in his terrible unrest, the lonely 
occupant of this solitary isle. The mystery of his 
own nature perplexes and saddens him. He has 
aspirations high as heaven, and pure as an angel's 
thought ; and he has appetites and propensities 



AND THE "LOVE OF GOD." 



127 



altogether brutal and devilish. What power can 
reconcile him to himself ? And then, whence 
came he ? It is easy to reply, " God made him, 
out of the dust of the earth." But who, and what, 
and where is this God, so almighty? and what 
does He mean by leaving him here so long, in this 
arid solitude of sin, and then snatching him away 
from it suddenly and unwarned, whither ? O ! 
that ineffable whither ! and that mystic door of 
death — swung on hinges of inexorable pain, and 
opened but to crack his heart-strings with its jar- 
ring strain — through which he must pass into the 
vast Unknown ! This awful uncertainty dissipates 
his mind and cripples all its powers. If he only 
knew what was to become of him ! Make his own 
destiny indeed! determine his own future! work 
out his own salvation ! He does not believe it. 
He is conscious of no supernatural strength, which 
might qualify him for such a task. But one thing 
he can do, and he will : that is, provide for his 
present comfort. He will build himself an edifice 
of fortune, that shall defy, at least, the sharper ills 
of his present state. At the foundation, he will 
place the most solid and weighty of all the materi- 
als within his reach — the treasures of this world. 
The walls and roof, which shall insulate and pro- 
tect him, he erects of the most finished and endur- 
ing intellectual culture. On these, again, he hangs 
all the adornments of domestic affection. The win- 
dows of Accident, and the great door of Chance, 
he shutters and fastens, as well as he can, with 
those materials, of the wreck of other souls, which 



128 



THE " GRACE OF JESUS" 



the storms of life have flung at his feet. This 
done, he sits down, as he terms it, to take his com- 
fort. But alas ! not alone. Three mighty fiends 
have been his aiders and abettors all the time, in 
the erection of his temporal fortune ; and now they 
sit down with him to enjoy it. Their names are 
Selfishness, Sensuality, and Resentment. These 
prompt him in his revels, and guard the door of 
his temporal fortune against all heavenly intruders. 
Selfishness and Sensuality hurry him from object 
to object, of inordinate and passionate desire ; and 
Resentment engages him in a thousand conflicts, 
with real or imaginary trespassers upon his rights. 
Thus he is kept in a perpetual fever of excitement, 
and forbidden to think upon his destiny or duty. 
If this state of excitement might be always main- 
tained, his salvation would be one simple, natural, 
eternal impossibility. But thanks, if need be, to 
the infirmity of his nature — which lacks some- 
thing yet of fiendish hardihood — there come sea- 
sons of silent and sad exhaustion, when even his 
familiar demons cannot prompt him to any new 
enterprise of sin. Now these are the night-falls of 
the soul — the solemn evening twilights — which 
follow its days of heated and noisy endeavor. And 
then, out of the mystic, shadowy distance, and 
over the waves of the eternal sea, there come float- 
ing recollections of the Truth, bearing the form of 
the smitten and crucified! Redeemer. 

Anon there comes a knock, which rouses all the 
ghostly echoes of that haunted soul-house ! A 
knock, not loud — quite gentle, indeed — but in- 



AND THE "LOYE OF GOD." 



129 



stinct with a thrilling sense of Power ! for lo, on 
his heart and life, there falls from some nnseen 
Hand an unexpected blessing ! Whence came it ? 
— this sudden affluence ! or this new-born joy ? 
Who is it that has remembered him for good, and 
thrust this unexpected benefit upon his soul ? Has 
God, then, thought upon him at last ? and will He 
interpose to bless and save him ? This looks like 
it. He has half a mind to open the door, and see 
if some Divine Person did indeed knock. But 
here the fiends interpose. Selfishness tells him, 
" Beware, lest you lose all ! " Sensuality tells him, 
" Stay, till you enjoy this new pleasure ! " Re- 
sentment tells him, " Some crafty enemy is with- 
out ! Better stop till you have marshaled your 
forces." Together, they raise such a rout that the 
sound of the knock is quite lost and forgotten. 
The soul is restrung for new orgies ; and the gen- 
tle Stranger, discouraged, passes away into the 
eternal distance, out of which He came, full of 
love, to save an immortal life. 

But once more the twilight of exhaustion 
quenches the burning ardors of the soul. Once 
more, from out the distance, rises upon the mind's 
horizon the shadowy image of spiritual things. 
Once more that Godlike Form draws near. There 
is a cloud of sadness on his brow, heart-breaking 
to look upon ; for the Son of God is coming to 
make his last effort to save a dying soul. Again,, 
that knock, on the shaking panels of the door of 
Chance ! — not gentle as before, but wild and start- 
ling as the trump of doom ! Ah ! the quaking 
9 



1 



130 



THE " GRACE OF JESUS " 



soul hears it but too well ! It shakes his choicest 
treasures from his trembling grasp, and they are 
lost to him forever. Again, that knock ! The 
very furniture of his mind is moved by the fearful 
din ! The horrid hand of Madness seems about to 
wrest his reason from his grasp ! Once more that 
knock ! and his very heart is falling into aching 
fragments, and hiding away in loathsome and un- 
seemly graves, whence he can recover them no 
more. And then, breaking from the hands of the 
constraining fiends, he shouts, " Who is it knocks ? 
Is there a God standing at my door ? " That des- 
perate cry has saved his life ; for hark to the an- 
swer : " Behold J stand at the door, and knock ! " 
then, sinking and softening to the tones of gentlest 
persuasion, " If thou wilt open unto me, I will 
come in, and sup with thee, and thou with me." 
"Enter, then," says the trembling . soul, scarce 
freed from the struggling fiends, — " enter and take 
possession of my life ! " and, with that magic word, 
down falls the door of Chance ; and on the thresh- 
old stands the form of a Divine Providence ! 

" Where He evermore will stay; 
Battling ever, 
Yielding never 
To the demon Sin his prey — 
To the fierce and frenzied Fiend his human prey — 
Till the day 

When, from Heaven's unveiled glories, rock and mountain flee away." 

Thus the celestial Stranger enters ; and the 
fiends of Selfishness, Sensuality, and unholy Re- 
sentment flee, affrighted, from his sacred presence. 
One touch of that Divine hand, and the sin-sick 



AXp THE "LOVE OF GOD." 



131 



soul is healed, and the generous current of a new 
and spiritual life thrills in every vein, and pulsates 
in every artery, of his joyfully conscious being. 
He enters ; and that sealed house of temporal for- 
tune is changed, as by the wand of a magician, 
into a heavenly pavilion, open on every side, but 
pillared on divine strength, and covered with the 
shield of Heaven. There, henceforth, all heavenly 
visitants are welcome ; and there every tired and 
stricken wanderer is free to enter, and find repose 
and help. He enters, and all is changed. The 
Divine embraces and lifts up the human. Now he 
is made to understand that all his temporal losses 
shall turn to immortal gains ; that the treasures 
even of his heart, which he had deemed lost to Mni 
forever, shall have a new and happy and undying 
resurrection. Thus " clothed " with celestial un- 
derstanding as a garment, " and in his right mind " 
concerning time, eternity, life, death, and all 
things, he sits down to " sup " with his Divine 
Companion. O that supper ! in which the new- 
born soul communes for the first time with his 
God ! — takes the place of the beloved Apostle, 
and leans on the breast of Jesus ! What wonder 
that the grateful tears chase each other down his 
cheeks ? What wonder that smiles, and impulses 
of celestial laughter, move him to ecstasy ? What 
wonder if, at times, unable to control the wild rap- 
ture of his heart, he pours his soul into a shout of 
" Hallelujah to God and the Lamb ? " He has 
but caught one strain of that song which the an- 
gels are always singing. Surely, this is not so very 



132 THE "GRACE OF JESUS, ETC. 

grave a disorder. It certainly does not offend 
Heaven. And has Earth a nicer ear ? I would 
we were in his place, we who murmur at his joy. 
"We might not shout as he does ; but we should 
comprehend well how and why he shouts, sitting 
at his first supper with the Son of God. O that 
supper ! how it turns our minds back to the primal 
eucharist ! which, if we mistake not, is its true 
type; the meaning being that, in this wonderful 
communion, there takes place an essential inter- 
change of nature ; Christ imparting to man some- 
thing of his divine spirituality, and receiving from 
man all the burden of his sins. Let us therefore 
listen once more, with all our hearts, to his holy 
and touching appeal : " Behold, I stand at the door 
and knock : if any man hear my voice, and open 
the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with 
him, and he with me." 



XI. 



INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 
" God is love.'^ — 1 John iv. 8. 

Of all the modifications of affection known to 
men, the rarest and divinest is benevolence. Un- 
renewed, selfish, and unprincipled men are capable 
of the love of passion and of kind ; and so also are 
some orders of the brute creation ; but benevolence 
is preeminently of God. Nay, says the Apostle, 
" God is benevolence ; " for so must we interpret 
the word "love," benevolence being the only form 
of affection which we can predicate of a Divine 
Being. These grand words unveil, to the orphaned 
and sorrowing children of this world, the heart of 
a Divine Father. They are not, as they had 
thought and feared, alone. In the dull, cold, sad 
mystery of life, there appears all at once a heavenly 
clew, which followed faithfully, as each can, will 
lead every wanderer home to the embrace of Pater- 
nal Love. But some eyes cannot see this clew, and 
some ears cannot hear the words which proclaim 
it ; for spiritual things are " spiritually discerned ; " 
and " Except a man be born again, he cannot see 
the kingdom of God." 

We may distinguish this phase of affection as 
the disposition to impart benefits to others. And 



134 IKFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION". 

now, if we will go back into the eternities, and 
conceive a perfectly intelligent, unlimited, and all- 
pervading power, the law of whose necessary ex- 
istence, and the governing principle of all whose 
motions, is this same quality of benevolence ; if 
we will conceive of this power as tri-personal, — 
an everlasting Father, from whom, by an eternal 
generation, there is an everlasting Son, and from 
these, by an eternal procession, an everlasting 
Spirit ; if we will conceive of the Son as the be- 
nevolence of the Divine Father voicing itself in 
filial Deity, and of the Holy Spirit as the benevo- 
lence of the Divine Father and Son, expressing 
itself in a personal and infinite Efficiency for good ; 
and then if we will multiply these three eternal 
Factors — all mfinite, all Divine — into each other 
forever, so that the product shall be an eternal 
Unity of quick and infinitely capable benevolence : 
if we will still further conceive this infinite Benev- 
olence going out, as the ceaseless breathing of God, 
into the void universe, and crystallizing in all ma- 
terial forms, until the vacant house of the Almighty 
was filled with its starry denizens, until space was 
populous with worlds, and vocal with the echoes 
of their musical footsteps through the sounding 
chambers of the sky ; if we will conceive this ne- 
cessity of the Divine nature to be doing good burst- 
ing into spiritual creations of angel, archangel, and 
heavenly hierarch, until all the orders of celestial 
being were filled with personalities of glad and 
glorious life, — winged, ethereal, immortal, — and 
all the desires and capacities of every one fed to 



INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION". 135 

ecstasy from the open hand of God ; and then his 
glance of kindness falling on the silent earth, and 
the senseless clods quickening, under that Divine 
regard, into a thousand forms of sentient being — 
worm for the dust, fish for the sea, beast for the 
field, and fowl to fly in the open firmament of 
heaven ; and then a pause, — the Divine Three in 
council, — and a Voice, piercing to the outmost 
bounds of being, and thrilling all the universe, 
" Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, 
and give him dominion over the earth ; " and then, 
man made in the image of God, male and female, 
lapped in love, embowered with loveliness, and 
over all, the sheltering presence of a Divine Father, 
whose heart of parental tenderness stooped to hu- 
man converse with his human child ; — if we will 
conceive all this, we shall obtain a faint glimpse of 
the Divine character, as it is revealed in the Scrip- 
tures, and manifested in creation. 

But how, we shall perhaps feel inclined to in- 
quire, does this supreme benevolence, which is 
claimed as the paramount feature in the character 
of the Almighty, and the spring of all his actions, 
consist with the evil of which He made man capa- 
ble, and in whose painful consequences he was 
shortly afterwards, and has been ever since, and 
shall be to all eternity, in the person of many of 
his descendants, involved ? Did not God certainly 
foreknow that man would sin ? And did He not 
accurately discern all the sad consequences, to man, 
of that sin? How, then, if the result of man's 
creation was to inflict eternal misery on the larger 



136 INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 

proportion of his race, could the creation of the 
race consist with what is claimed for the Divine 
beneficence ? The question is both vexed and diffi- 
cult ; but it ought to be fairly met, and fully and 
candidly considered. It is true, then, we concede, 
that, the knowledge of God being infinite, the end 
of human progress, both in good and evil, with all 
its intermediate incidents, must have been plain to 
Him at the era of man's creation, as was the sim- 
plest then present fact of being ; and it is also true 
that there is much suffering in the present life, and 
that, according to the Divinely revealed conditions 
of salvation, and the general drift of human voli- 
tions, by far the greater number of men will be 
finally lost. But let us consider, in the first place, 
that the Divine foreknowledge can be no more 
causative, can no more affect the thing known, 
than the Divine after-knowledge ; in other words, 
that a human contingency, or any other thing, is 
no more affected by being known as certain in the 
future, than by being known as certain in the past. 
Knowledge is never influential, or causative, on the 
thing known. I know that the sun shines, but my 
knowledge does not in the least affect its shining ; 
nor, any more, does the knowledge of the Almighty 
of the same fact affect the fact. " Ay," you reply, 
" but his power does." That is very true ; but his 
knowledge of a fact, and his power exerted to ac- 
complish that fact, are two quite different things. 
Suppose that He had given me absolute control 
over the sun, so that, of my own free, untrammeled 
will, neither constrained by Him nor by any cir- 



INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 137 



cumstance or creature, I might either blot it out of 
the universe with a gesture, or cause it to shine on 
forever. Now while it is true that He would cer- 
tainly know in which direction my free choice or 
caprice would turn, it is equally true that if He 
had really committed the matter to me, and I were 
really a free being, He would in no sense influence 
the result, however perfectly He might know it, 
save only as He might be considered responsible 
for committing it to my discretion ; and with that 
question we will deal anon. But in the mean time, 
apply the illustration to the question of man's sal- 
vation, either personal, or extending to his race, 
and we have the same result : God's foreknowing 
it does not at all affect it, if He have left it in our 
hands ; and He distinctly assures us that He has 
so placed and left it. 

With regard to human suffering in the present 
life, in addition to the truth that it is mainly pro- 
duced by man's voluntary violations of the organic 
laws of his being, it is to be remarked that the 
compensating power of happiness sweeps away 
much of the mystery from this otherwise sinister 
fact. The years of a man's prison -torture are for- 
gotten in the first hour of his joyous restoration to 
freedom. So the pain, toil, anguish, anxiety of a 
long pursuit of any cherished object are blotted 
out by the rapture of the first moment of posses- 
sion. Thus we see, when they are justly regarded, 
that in nothing, perhaps, in the present life, is the 
kindness of the Creator more signally displayed 
than in those very proportions and relations of 



138 INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 

happiness and misery here, which have been ob- 
jected as barriers to snch a conclusion. 

Haying thus disposed, as we trust, of these pre- 
liminary difficulties, we return to the main ques- 
tion involved in this objection, namely, if, so far 
as we can see, the greater proportion of human 
beings will be lost, and God foreknew this fact at 
the era of then- creation, how does their creation 
consist with the supposition that beneficence is the 
governing attribute of the Divine -character ? Why 
should man have been made capable of evil ? — or, 
if he must needs be capable of evil, and the Al- 
mighty knew that his evil capacity would cer- 
tainly become, in the greater number of instances, 
his evil destiny, why should he have been made 
at all? 

Let us remember, first, that the popular notion 
of evil is, like the popular notions of cold and 
darkness, based upon a misapprehension of its es- 
sential nature. The interminable controversies, 
among the philosophers, concerning the origin of 
evil, one would suppose, might easily have been 
avoided, if the disputants would but have remem- 
bered that evil is not, in itself, a positive quality, but 
the mere and necessary consequence of the absence 
of good. Wherever, in the moral universe, good 
is not, or does not bear sway, there evil dwells or 
reigns ; just as where light is not, or does not make 
day, darkness dwells or reigns. If, to this view, it 
be objected that there seems something very pos- 
itive about dark and bloody crimes, it need only be 
replied, that crime is but the natural tendency to 



IXFIXITEXESS OF THE DIVIXE AFFECTIOX. 139 

destruction, in the moral world, where good, the 
grand conservator, is not. If, again, it be objected 
that there are personal evil agencies in the uni- 
verse, and that these agents harm not only them- 
selves, but others, it may be replied that such evil 
agencies are just so many moral beings, more or 
less destitute of good, and that all their efficiency 
to injure others depends upon the free consent of 
those others. In a word, moral good is the con- 
serving presence of the Divine in a moral being ; 
and moral evil is the absence of God from a moral 
being, and the consequent progress of that being 
toward destruction. But all finite possession of 
good is in degrees, greater or less ; and to create 
an intelligent being who should have no freedom 
to diminish the sum of good in his possession, would 
be to deprive him alike, and in consequence, of the 
power to increase it ; it would be to create a being 
capable of neither vice nor virtue ; in a word, it 
would be to create a brute, and not a man, nor an 
angel. Subordinate moral existence becomes, then, 
an impracticable chimera ; and between God and 
the M beasts that perish " there could be no subor- 
dinate spiritual powers. Will we continue to say, 
then, that if a moral being could neither be cre- 
ated nor conceived of that should not be also free 
and able to sin and fall, it were better that there 
should have been no such beings ? Would we 
blot from the universe all moral existence save the 
supreme One ? Are we wise and great enough to 
dare this consequence ? 

Besides, who shall assure us that, even on the 



140 INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 

plane of human being, the final balance will be 
against good? This world, for aught we know, 
and despite the teaching of our latter day proph- 
ets and millenarians, may be yet in its human 
infancy. The years of human history gone by, 
compared with its years to come, may be few and 
insignificant. One thing we do know ; and that is 
that the kingdoms of this world must become the 
kingdoms of God and of his Christ ; and that every 
human knee must bow, and every tongue confess 
that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the 
Father, before the affairs of time shall be wound up, 
and the problem of human existence solved. And 
we know another thing ! by the light of reason 
and justice we read it, as from the mouth of God : 
that no new facilities will be offered, and no new 
agencies employed, to accomplish these results. 
Divine Truth, an all sufficient Atonement, the 
Holy Spirit, and " these treasures in earthen ves- 
sels," borne by frail yet converted men, must be 
all that the world can ever have to bring it to 
Christ. And yet the world is coming to Christ, 
in the person of all its human inhabitants ; for 
the mouth of the Lord hath declared it. Does it 
become us, then, to criticise plans which are the 
products of infinite Wisdom, and whose temporal 
scope, even, we cannot come near to grasp ? 

But lo ! another barrier to the acknowledgment 
of the Divine beneficence ! Why then, says one, 
if He knew that I would be lost, did God make 
me ? or why not have cut me off in infancy, ere 
I became responsible ? The same question might 



rNTINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 141 

be asked with reference to every moral agent who 
will misuse his liberty, sin, and be lost. Nay, in 
common fairness, it must be asked ; for what is 
right in a given case, is right in all other like cases. 
The question is then, by logical necessity, reduced 
to the following terms : Why could not the Al- 
mighty have declined to create all those moral be- 
ings who, he foreknew, would, if they should be 
created, so use their liberty as to render themselves 
forever unhappy ? and thus limit responsible ex- 
istence to those other moral beings who, He as 
certainly foreknew, would choose the better part 
and so be forever happy ? But does not this sup- 
position involve a plainly absurd impossibility ? It 
is proposed to create an order of beings, free to 
evil as to good : which is of course essential to the 
idea of responsibility ; and then to strike from the 
muster-roll of such creation all who will choose 
evil rather than good ! But this is to destroy the 
integrity of the order of moral beings about to be 
created : first, by blotting out, at one stroke, say 
one half its numbers ! This is not the creation 
designed, but another. It is no longer an order of 
behigs, free to evil as to good ; but a mere frac- 
tion of that order, and only free to good, because 
they have no conception of evil, and cannot, there- 
fore, be tempted or solicited by it ; and hence, sec- 
ondly, without the power, or opportunity (which 
is the same thing), to make any choice whatever. 
Hence, also, the good which they pursue is not of 
free choice ; because no alternative has been pre- 
sented to them ; and if not of free choice, it is from 



142 INFINITEXESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 

the necessity either of their nature or circum- 
stances. They have, then, lost the very essence of 
the quality of moral beings, and are no longer 
anything but mere sentient machines, created or 
circumstanced (no difference which), to run in a 
particular direction, without the possibility of ever 
changing it ! Their virtue is no more virtue, but 
necessity ; and thus the whole splendid fabric of 
an order of free and responsible creatures falls into 
utter ruin, under the clumsy hand of that human 
Presumption which would alter and amend the 
works of God ! There was no alternative. Either 
man must not be ; or he must be as he is, man, in 
the image of God, with the awful sovereignty of 
his soul in his own hands, and free to fling it 
down to hell as to lift it up to heaven. And he 
has, it must be admitted, flung it down to hell, 
thus far ; but he has exhausted neither the pa- 
tience nor the pity of his God. There is reason to 
suppose that the dungeons of the lost, even, are as 
tolerable as the passions of the lost will permit the 
Almighty to make them. Hell is the insane asy- 
lum of the moral universe ; and it is in evidence, 
not of the vengeance of the Supreme State, but of 
its compassion. Somewhere, for their own and 
others' good, those moral lunatics who are so 
deeply smitten with the foul allurements of sin 
that they consecrate their immortality to it, must 
be. confined and disciplined. God will not suffer 
them to run howling up and down through his 
universe forever. So, they would but pain and 
affright the good, and work deadlier mischief to 



INITNITENESS OF TFTE DIYIXE AFFECTION. 143 



themselTes. Therefore, having passed their pro- 
bation in his sanitarium of mercy, and set at de- 
fiance all the healing remedies of the Physician of 
souls, when hopeless of all cure, they are consigned 
to the chain and the cell. And does this argue 
aught against the Divine beneficence ? 

But God has not left us to conclude his love 
alone from these dark reasonings, and the appar- 
ently conflicting voices of nature and providence. 
He has uttered it in terms which only willful per- 
versity and wickedness can misapprehend ; written 
it in letters of blood ; expressed it in groans of 
inconceivable anguish. And the name of this won- 
derful revelation of love is Calvary. Calvary ! 
Strange spectacle ! Sad mystery of Divine love 
manifested in human life, in human suffering, in 
human death ! " God, made flesh," and dwelling 
among men, that He might gather with the hand 
of an all-human sympathy every wretched capac- 
ity of the race, and bind it in a crown of anguish 
on his own Divine brow ! We can comprehend 
the philosophy of Divine beneficence, in its ordi- 
nary phases : how, from infinite fullness, there 
should proceed endless benefits. But when to bless 
costs personal suffering ; when, to relieve from 
death, one must become himself the substitute, and 
die ; when he must gather all deaths into one, and 
concentrate on a point of time the agonies of thou- 
sands of millions of men and immortal ages of 
time, and hold them on his own heart until that 
heart is crushed under the fiery load : this demands 
the loving strength of God. O ! Jesus was very 



144 INFINITENESS OF THE DIVINE AFFECTION. 

God J A single soul's suffering had slain a man 
in a moment ; but He endured for hours the suffer- 
ings of all men, for time and eternity ! O ! those 
three dreadful hours ! during which the weight of 
hell rested and wrought and wreaked all its furies 
on the patient heart of the Son of God ! We 
may doubt of God's love when we reason ; we may 
doubt of God's love when we suffer ; but we can 
never doubt of God's love when we look on Cal- 
vary. Justice has no place in that scene. It is 
infinite Lo\e grappling with the armed hands of 
its suicidal child, and receiving in its own breast 
all the wounds intended to accomplish self-slaugh- 
ter ; that so, by the sight of his Father's blood, 
shed by his hand, the wretched lunatic might 
be restored to reason, and melted to penitence ! 
Therefore, by this eternal token, " Love is of 
God," and " God is Love." 



XII. 

GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 

" Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom ; 
neither let the mighty man glory in his might ; let not the rich man 
glory in his riches : but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he un- 
derstandeth and knoweth me ; that I am the Lord, which exercise lov- 
ing-kindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these 
things I delight, saith the Lord." — Jer. ix. 23, 2L 

The lesson of the text seems to be this : Man 
should not glory in the fading and perishing, but 
in the enduring and imperishable. The entire 
soundness of this proposition appeals to all the in- 
tellect and heart within us. As we advance in life, 
and its great tasks open more clearly on our en- 
larging understandings, we turn away, from time 
to time, in weariness and disgust, from pursuits 
which once had power to awaken all the enthusi- 
asm of our natures. From the maturity of life, 
and the pride of its deep and difficult philosophical 
studies, we look back, with a kind of pitying won- 
der, upon the past. The toys of childhood ! how 
is it possible that they could once have filled and 
satisfied our souls ? The pleasures of youth ! how 
puerile they seem ! and how transient and deceit- 
ful the fires which they kindled in our blood ! The 
ordinary pursuits of men! how insignificant and 
unworthy ! These things, now, never rise higher 
10 



146 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 

than our contempt, and oftener sink below it, into 
complete forgetfulness, until we cease to remember 
that we have ever been children and triflers. Such 
are the pride and self-sufficiency begotten in the 
stern struggles of maturer life. But what if all 
this is but another and deeper illusion ? "What if 
something still better, and infinitely above even 
these high pursuits, and yet not altogether beyond 
our reach, should remain ? 

Some such supreme and ultimate Good there is, 
and to it, we conceive, these words of Holy Writ 
ask us to-day to look up. 

Man, says infinite Wisdom, should not glory in 
the perishing. But what is it to glory in the fleet- 
ing and transitory ? It is, for example, to glory in 
human wisdom. When one devotes his life to the 
acquisition, arrangement, analysis, and application 
of knowledge, in one or more, or (if this were pos- 
sible) all of its departments ; when his efforts are 
attended with some degree of success, and he feels 
himself superior in these attainments to most of 
his fellows ; when self-love, and long and close at- 
tention to the same subjects, and the praises of 
others, conspire to produce in his mind an extrava- 
gant estimate of the importance and value of his 
acquisitions ; when he relies upon them for success 
and happiness in life ; when he deems himself, be- 
cause of his intellectual attainments, better than 
other men ; when his pulses thrill with joyous ex- 
citement, in response to every introspective glance, 
which reveals how much he knows and how well 
he thinks : when he exults in all this, then, indeed, 
he glories in his wisdom. 



GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 147 

So, when one devotes all his powers to the ac- 
quisition of influence and authority over his fellow- 
men ; when he possesses those commanding talents, 
or is the sport of those happy circumstances which 
exalt him, in position, far above others ; when he 
imagines himself so firmly and royally seated in 
his high place that nothing can ever shake his 
throne, or snatch the diadem from his brow, or 
wrest the sceptre from his grasp ; when he launches 
his soul's wealth on the shining bubble of his au- 
thority, and fondly imagines that it will ride there 
safely forever; when he dreams that, because of 
his social exaltation, he is of another and finer 
spirit and clay than those which enter into the 
mould of common men ; when he drinks to intoxi- 
cation of the wine of flattery and self-gratulation ; 
when he rejoices in his power : then it is that he 
glories in his might. 

So, also, when one inherits or acquires an amount 
of material wealth which confers upon him the dis- 
tinction of eminent riches ; when he suffers their 
means of influence and powers of gratification to 
bound the aspirations of his nature ; when he 
wishes nothing greater or better or more enduring 
than they ; when he believes himself intrinsically 
better than the poor man, because he is extrinsic- 
ally richer than he ; when his wealth absorbs, for 
its care or increase, both his intellect and his heart ; 
when his highest and deepest joy is in the contem- 
plation of his riches and the thought that he pos- 
sesses them : then he, too, glories in his riches. 

It is not too much to say, that this state of mind 



148 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 

is the common curse of those who attain to emi- 
nence in intellectual cultivation, power, and wealth. 
The temptations thus to " glory " are so many and 
so strong that few are able to resist them. Wis- 
dom, for example, is intrinsically so precious ; it is 
of so much account to human nature ; the world 
is so dependent upon it for material comfort, as 
well as for intellectual culture ; it is such an ina- 
lienable inheritance ; so few possess it ; it lifts one 
so far above the mass of his fellows ; its pleasures 
are so purely spiritual ; it is such a glorious and 
divine privilege to know ; it is such bliss to bathe 
the soul in an atmosphere of truth, where common 
spirits cannot breathe, — to sweep, with tireless 
wing, the vast empyrean of thought, and pause 
but to gather strength for new and higher flights, 
— all this so dazzles and dizzies the soul that we 
cannot wonder that men glory in it. 

So of power, that mimicry of Omnipotence in 
which grown up children make believe that they 
are gods. Its achievements are so wonderful ; it 
is capable of so much ; its sceptre reaches so far, — 
why should it not touch the Infinite ? The illusion 
of its permanence is strengthened by the servility 
of inferiors. The wise, the rich, the great bend in 
lowly reverence before its footstool. The smiles 
of Beauty and the praises of Manhood are its 
meed. It is petted and caressed and feared. The 
brave tremble at its nod, and even Genius prosti- 
tutes its high powers to base and shameless flat- 
tery. It ministers gratification to the strongest 
passions of our nature ; bids us ask and have — 



GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 149 

desire and be satisfied. With all these attributes, 
it asks the trust of the heart which it flatters, and 
the homage of the head which it crowns. Is it 
strange that it should not ask in yain ? Is it won- 
derful that men should glory in their power ? 

So, also, with riches. They can purchase so 
much for us ; they can fill our homes with luxury, 
and surround them with elegance ; they can render 
common to our eyes all that is excellent and conven- 
ient in science, all that is rare and beautiful in art ; 
they can atone for so many defects, hide so many 
blemishes ; they can " gild the straitened forehead 
of the fool," smooth the hateful lineaments of vice, 
and hide the stains of crime ; they can absolve 
from so much of social responsibility, for who dares 
reckon with the rich ? Who pretends to hold 
them to the same rigid account which society re- 
quires of other men ? From the burdens and re- 
straints, as from the pains and penalties, of ordi- 
nary life, they are immemorial exempts. What 
wonder, then, that they should glory in the riches 
which have power to do them such deep social 
favors ? 

But all these temptations to glory in human 
wisdom, might, and riches are opposed by reasons 
which, it would seem, should forever deter us from 
such folly. Human wisdom, when we think of it 
soberly, and especially when we contrast it with 
the Perfection which we are able to imagine, is 
such a poor, fallible, defective thing ; its sphere is 
so limited, its errors so gross, and its results so un- 
satisfying ; that it is only when we are intensely 



150 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 



conscious of its weakness and folly, that we ap- 
proach its highest attainments. It is so borrowed 
and dependent, — it is held by a tenure so frail 
and light, — that the only sentiment which its pos- 
session ought to inspire is the deepest humility. 
The spiritual pleasures of which it boasts are not 
always pure, and do not certainly lead to perma- 
nent peace. On the contrary, they are deceitful 
and illusory ; and it is only when they have led us 
into a region of care and sorrow and cloud, that 
we perceive the Paradise of humble faith which 
we have left behind. 

How near at hand, how open to every mind, he 
those reflections which strip from human authority 
its semblance of reality, and leave it but a passing 
pageant and a transient shadow ! The hand that 
holds its sceptre may be pulseless in an hour. The 
breath of social change may dissipate it in a mo- 
ment. And while it remains, how limited its 
sway ! How small a part of the material world 
owns its influence ? How stubborn the inert re- 
sistance which is maintained by that small part ! 
How far above its yoke soars the free-born spirit ! 
How inscrutable the mask which human nature 
wears before it ! It can read no heart. The hom- 
age which it receives is almost always insincere. 
The supple knee and feigned smile may hide the 
deadliest hatred. Love and friendship are ban- 
ished from its court ; or, if they approach, it can- 
not distinguish them from the hollow crowd who 
wear their semblance. The passions which it grat- 
ifies are our deadliest enemies. They undermine 



GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 151 

the health, exhaust the intellect, and scorch and 
shrivel up the soul, until suddenly, a stained and 
blackened thing, it is summoned to the bar of God. 
Who, if he dared to think these true and sober 
thoughts, would glory in his power ? 

And wherefore should the rich man glory in his 
riches ? True, they can purchase much, but there 
are some things which money cannot buy. The 
heart of tenderness ; the voice, the hand of Affec- 
tion ; the tone, the temper of angel Kindness ; the 
suffrages of noble and uncorrupted souls ; the 
priceless jewel of a true and devoted friend ; a 
conscience undefiled ; a heart at rest and peace ; 
the smile, the blessing, the friendship of Heaven : 
these are above all price. No golden guerdon can 
bring them from afar. Riches do not really atone 
for defects, nor hide blemishes ; they only seem to 
do so, while, in truth, they render both but the 
more apparent and disgusting. In the presence of 
wealth, men may applaud its folly for wisdom ; 
but once beyond the reach of its ear and eye, and 
they are wild with merry mockery of its silly say- 
ings. Its vices may be gilded with the popular 
sanction, when it is near ; but they are banned 
with the popular curse, when it is far. Its crimes 
may pass unpunished by that human justice whose 
eyes are blinded by its gold ; but there comes at 
last a stern and relentless reckoning, which will 
atone for all ; and the very means which diminish 
responsibility here will tremendously increase it 
there. O ! what a boundless and ineffable curse 
are riches to him who glories in their possession ! 



152 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 

It were better for him that he had dragged out a 
wretched life, in penury and pain; since then he 
would have had to render but life's common ac- 
count, unswelled by the terrible aggravation of 
wealth. 

Therefore, let not the wise man glory in his wis- 
dom ; nor the mighty man in his might ; nor the 
rich man in his riches. In a word, let no man 
glory in the perishing and transient ; but, if he 
will glory, let him glory in the enduring and eter- 
nal; if he will trust, and be proud of, and rejoice 
in something, let it be something worthy of the 
trust, pride, and joy of an undying spirit. Let 
him glory in a rational knowledge of God. Let 
him exult in his splendid conception of the one 
pure, spiritual, and all-controlling Existence of the 
universe. Let him rejoice in the glorious sunlight 
of this matchless thought ; and to strengthen his 
conception, and intensify his consciousness of bless- 
ing, let him cast one mental glance upon those 
moral antipodes of the earth, where the light of 
this truth has never shone ; or glimmers darkly 
"down, in reflected and broken rays, from the 
traditions of earlier days. Let him think of a 
thousand millions of his fellow-men, groping in 
a perpetual moral night. Let him gaze upon 
their blind and helpless and bloody adventures, in 
search of the truth which he possesses. And to 
strengtheu still further his conception of the value 
of such knowledge, let him look on those deluded 
men, who, standing by his side, bathed in the same 
light which illumines him, resolutely close their 



GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 153 

eyes, and persist that all is night, and that no God 
is here. Let him trace their devious course, inter- 
rupted by repeated and cruel falls, till they are 
lost to his sight beyond the precipice of Death, 
over which they recklessly stumble. Then let him 
look on those others, scarcely less blind and stupid 
than the atheist, who cover their eyes and exclude 
more or less of the light of Revealed Truth, with 
the veil of religious enthusiasm. Let him glance 
at the cursing infidel, at the ranting fanatic, at the 
stately formalist ; and as he turns from all these 
forms of wretched and pitiable blindness, to real- 
ize, once more, that he stands, with his eyes open, 
in the full and glorious light of a rational and re- 
vealed knowledge of God, — then, if he will glory, 
let him glory in that knowledge. 

Men may, also, if they will, glory in their 
knowledge of the infinite and perfect Providence 
of God ; that He who created all sustains all ; that 
He who sustains all controls all ; that the might- 
iest and minutest material changes are alike the 
objects of his attention, and the effects of his ac- 
tion ; that He governs the moral and spiritual, not 
less than the material world ; that the infinite 
range of dependent existence is comprehended by 
his glance, and lies within reach of his hand ; that 
every operation of every intellect in the universe, 
— from that angel near his throne, on whose glo- 
rious brow has shone the light of years, only not 
eternal ; and that other angel, whose soul, marred 
as it is by the everlasting thunders, is yet magnifi- 
cent even in its ruins, — from the highest types of 



154 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 



dependent spiritual existence, down to the smallest 
mould in which a soul is ever cast ; that every 
motion of every soul receives his attention ; that 
no single spirit ever makes the smallest progress in 
holiness, but that progress is recognized, and that 
spirit is rewarded with his approving smile ; that 
there is no stain of earthliness and sin contracted 
by any soul, but He notes it, and makes that soul 
conscious that he condemns it ; that all individual 
prosperity in this life, — the multiplication of our 
comforts and blessings, and our personal and pecul- 
iar exemption from its evils and sufferings, — that 
all this is of Divine appointment ; and that no 
storm, no cloud, no loss, no affliction, no bereave- 
ment, no pang, can touch the soul or body here, 
but He, directly or indirectly, sends it. If men will 
glory, let them glory in such knowledge as this. 

But, more especially, if one will glory, let him 
glory in an experimental knowledge of the Divine 
favor. If, through the influence of a spiritual and 
omnipotent Agency, he have been made to realize 
the entire corruption of his nature, the total per- 
version of his habits, and the deep and ruinous tur- 
pitude of his actions ; if he have felt thorough and 
sincere compunction for all this ; if he have turned, 
with honest self-loathing, from evil to good ; if his 
mental eye have found and rested on the cross of 
Christ ; if he have perceived the all-sufficient effi- 
cacy of the atonement which it represents ; if he 
have laid every interest which connects him with 
time and eternity upon this hallowed and hal- 
lowing Altar ; if the sacrifice have been accepted, 



GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 



155 



and the acceptance attested by the presence and 
purifying agency of Divine fire ; if purged from his 
old sins, he have become a new creature ; if the 
work of consecration be complete, and he be " sanc- 
tified throughout soul, body, and spirit ; " if his 
communion with God the Father, Son, and Spirit, 
be intimate and constant ; if he have " an unction 
from the Holy One, which fills his heart with joy 
and girds his soul with power : " then, indeed, he 
may glory ; yet " God forbid " that he " should 
glory, save in the cross of Christ." 

But many are the temptations to undervalue 
this knowledge. The rational idea of God is so 
plainly revealed, and so commonly received ; the 
millions, who are strangers to it, are so very far 
away ; the wild tales which reach us from those 
benighted lands are so improbably extravagant; 
skepticism is so uncommon, and its actions and 
attitudes so ridiculous ; the common forms of en- 
thusiasm are so harmless, and its deeper evils so 
rare and remote ; that, altogether, we find it hard 
to realize that we are peculiarly blessed in a ra- 
tional knowledge of God. 

And so are we tempted to reason of Providence. 
What imports to us, we are sometimes led to ask, 
a knowledge of the Divine Agency which controls 
the material, and regulates the spiritual world ! 
Our knowledge is not causative. The Government 
which we know, is not influenced by our knowl- 
edge, nor are we affected beneficially by its pos- 
session, or injuriously by failing to possess it. Our 
temporal blessings are so rich and regular. They 



156 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 



generally come unasked, and often come unex- 
pected. They fall, without apparent distinction, 
upon the evil and the good. Life and health and 
every temporal comfort, and all material prosper- 
ity — they come — why should we inquire whence, 
or how ? Is it not enough that these, and all 
our afflictions, seem to depend on second causes ? 
Why should we inquire further ? Are there not 
immutable laws, on which all these things de- 
pend? Can we alter or annul them? Has not 
the Supreme Agent, having enacted them, retired 
to a repose, which neither our petitions nor our 
faith can disturb? Why, then, should we ap- 
preciate so highly, a knowledge of the Divine 
Providence ? 

And really, we are sometimes led to doubt, 
whether there be much in an experimental knowl- 
edge of the Divine favor, which should cause glory- 
ing. Repentance is so often shallow and insincere ; 
men are so frequently deceived with regard to 
their own mental operations : who shall assure 
us that our desires have not produced our convic- 
tions? Professions of conversion so often fail to 
change the life ; the practical proof of genuine faith 
is so generally wanting : — how know we that others 
are not laughing at our inconsistencies ? Entire 
consecration — the full anointing of the Holy Ghost 
— is so rare ; the common verdict is so strong 
against its attainableness : may not the common 
verdict be right ? May not those splendid and daz- 
zling exceptions, who, we have been taught to be- 
lieve, convulsed the world by their spiritual power, 



GLORYING IN THE PEEISHABLE. 157 

have merely surprised it, by their wonderful tal- 
ents ? May not the whole doctrine of human ex- 
perience of Divine things be a mistake, — a dream, 
a poetical fable? Why then, should we glory 
in that which is so uncertain and inconclusive ? 
Why should we glory in the knowledge of God ? 

Because a rational knowledge of the one infinite 
Existence is the only clew to all other correct and 
valuable mental acquisition ; because this is the 
key-thought which opens the door of universal 
truth ; because, deprived of the light of this knowl- 
edge, all inferior objects assume unnatural and 
monstrous proportions ; so that of a stock, a stone, 
a brute, a companion, a quality of human nature, 
man will make a god, and prostrate his soul before 
its false and unreal altar in idolatrous worship ; 
because millions of souls, in so-called Christian 
lands, are kneeling there to-day ; because, other- 
wise, we may catch their spirit, and join in the 
polluted feast and intoxicated dance of the world's 
idolatry, all imheeding the thunders of divine ven- 
geance which are rolling on the hill above us ; be- 
cause it will strengthen us against skeptical allure- 
ments, and be the means of opening some eyes, now 
willfully closed to this great Light ; because, other- 
wise, the veil of religious enthusiasm may fall, in 
an unguarded moment, over our own vision, and 
we may become fanatics, or formalists, or mystics, 
or antinomians, and prefer our shadowy world to 
what will then seem to us the glaring light of 
truth : these are reasons why we should cultivate, 
and cherish, and " glory in " a rational knowledge 
of the divine Existence. 



158 GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 

And for our knowledge of the infinite provi- 
dence of God, if there were no other reasons why 
we should glory in it, the simple fact that it lifts 
our minds from inferior, blind, and helpless second 
causes to the great first efficient Cause of all things, 
is enough. Surely, the expanding power of this, in- 
finite Thought upon the soul were ample benefit. 
Who would not rather soar, if but to try his wing, 
and exult in mere capacity of pinion, than grovel 
forever on the earth ? To ascend, step after step, 
in the magnificent conception of an infinite Prov- 
idence, and look out upon the ever-broadening 
scenes of divine Efficiency, until, from its dizzy 
height, the Mind shall grasp the whole stupen- 
dous range of material and spiritual existence, 
and catch a glimpse of the radiant glories of that 
divine Hand, in whose hollow they all repose, — 
surely this is better, wiser, mightier, more becom- 
ing the spirit's heritage of immortality, than search- 
ing among the rubbish of material change for the 
petty points on which it turns. And O, what a 
fatal mistake is that which human Reason makes, 
when she tells us that such knowledge as this 
affects neither ourselves nor the Hand which holds 
us ! On the contrary, it affects both. This in- 
tensely joyful recognition of Providence is the 
spiritual homage which wins the caress of infinite 
Power. Blessings and afflictions, coming from the 
same intelligent and benevolent Source, have moral 
ends ; and the former are richer and more regular, 
the latter rarer and lighter, because of our faith 
and piety. 



GLORYING IN THE PERISHABLE. 159 

We should glory in our personal and spiritual 
experience of the Divine favor, for the very reasons 
which, lightly considered, tempted us to under- 
value this experience. So few truly repent ! If 
it be so, and we do truly repent, this is motive for 
deeper joy ; that the grace which so few improve, 
has been welcomed to our hearts ; that the jewel, 
which so many will not wear, sheds its holy and 
beautiful light on our path. So few show fruits of 
genuine conversion ! If it be so, and if we fail 
not in those evidences ; if to the inward and con- 
stant consciousness of Divine favor, we add a life 
of perfect moral purity and continual effort for 
human welfare, — may we not the more rejoice in 
our genuine devotion, because it is so rare ? So 
few are daily consecrated ! But if our lives are set 
apart entirely to the glory of God ; if we are con- 
scious of a Divine and spiritual efficiency, which 
renders our humble abilities of more account to 
our fellow creatures, then the vastly and brilliantly 
superior talents of others, — surely, in all this we 
have a right to glory, and we will. 



XIII. 



THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

"Wherefore remember, that ye being in time past Gentiles in the 
flesh, who are called Uncircumcision by that which is called the Cir- 
cumcision in the flesh made by hands; that at that time ye were with- 
out Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers 
from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in 
the world: but now, in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were far off 
are made nigh by the blood of Christ. " — Eph. ii. 11, 12, 13. 

Perhaps the best known and the longest-lived 
of all the fables of this world, is that of the Wan- 
dering Jew. All the others are dead : not forgot- 
ten, it is true, but dead. There is neither life nor 
power in them. They do not awake the imagina- 
tion, nor stir the heart. But this of the Wander- 
ing Jew yet lives ; is the theme of poetry and 
romance, the subject of genuine superstition, and 
thrills, with a weird and resistless influence, the 
soundest reason and the strongest heart. 

And thus the fable runs : It was in Jerusalem, 
and on the day of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, 
that the last scion of the princely house of Naph- 
tali, — a man in the prime of life and the maturity 
of intellectual power and culture, — distinguished 
himself as the most zealous and pitiless of all the 
persecutors of the meek and voiceless Victim. He 
stimulated the already vindictive authorities of the 



THE SPLE3TDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 161 

Sanhedrin. He stirred the wild mob to demand 
the release of Barabbas, and insist upon the death 
of Christ. His voice led the sanguinary chorus, 
" Crucify Him ! crucify Him ! His blood be on us 
and on our children ! " He prompted the reckless 
soldiery to improve, somewhat, upon their wonted 
cruelties. He devised those solemn mockeries that 
insulted so deeply the holy impotence of suffering. 
The robe of mimic royalty, the crown of thorns, 
and the appropriate taunts, were of his suggestion. 
He presided at the scourging, and the smiting, and 
the spitting. And when, upon the exhausted and 
bleeding Form, was laid the heavy cross, he still 
led the hooting, raging mob. He urged the Vic- 
tim to impossible speed and exertion, until, over- 
powered, He fell beneath his burden ; and then, 
with his sharp and heavy scourge, he struck, and 
fiercely bade Him rise and haste to death. Then, 
prone and bleeding as He lay, Jesus turned upon 
him the glance of those sad, ineffable eyes, with 
the words, " Rest thou not till I come." It was 
the bolt of fate, — the sentence of a lonely and 
inexpiable doom. He shrunk back from those re- 
proachful eyes till the crowd hid him from their 
gaze, but he saw them still. Out from the heated 
mob he sped to the neighboring hills ; but he still 
saw the glance, he still heard the words ; and he 
knew his doom. He was a husband and a father ; 
and he must survive all he loved. And hence- 
forth, for some nameless but tremendous term, 
he must be a restless wanderer on the face of the 
earth. He saw his kindred, his people, and his 
11 



162 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION". 

nation die. He has seen the birth and death of 
modern empires and states. He wanders through 
all nationalities ; he belongs to none. He meets all 
people ; he recognizes none. He has not one ac- 
quaintance on the wide, wide earth which he trav- 
erses day and night. He is the ideal stranger, — 
homeless, friendless, tired, restless, ineffably and 
painfully alone. With a single exception, he is 
the type of that spiritual loneliness and alienation 
which St. Paul has pictured in the text : he cannot 
die, and the sinner can and must. 

On such a picture of dreariness and gloom the 
Apostle calls upon Christians to look, and to con- 
nect it, by memory, with their own personal con- 
dition in the unhappy and guilty past, before they 
were converted to Christ. " Wherefore, remem- 
ber that at that time ye were without Christ, be- 
ing aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and 
strangers from the covenants of promise, having no 
hope, and without God in the world." 

Taking counsel at the lips of God's holy Apostle, 
let us notice, then, as they occur in the text, the 
several shades of that darkness in which we were 
involved, before we found " the Light of life." In 
the first place, we may remember that we were 
without Christ. And what is it to be " in the 
world " " without Christ ? " It is to be a shiner, 
without a Saviour. It is to be a violator of God's 
holy law, and exposed to its deathful penalties, 
with no Daysman to stand between us and shield 
us from the offended majesty of Heaven. It is to 
be conscious of guilt, with no hope of forgiveness. 



THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 163 



It is to have committed the inexpiable offense, the 
unpardonable sin, and to be haunted henceforth by 
" a terrible looking-for of judgment and fiery in- 
dignation." It is to be doomed to pain, and wrath, 
and tribulation, and disappointment, and disease, 
and death, and judgment, and hell, with no possi- 
bility of amelioration or release. It is to be con- 
demned to an immortal life of inexorable and in- 
tolerable torment. It is to look into the whole 
future, and see an infinite duration and a constant 
increase of inevitable pain and woe. It is to be- 
hold, in every forward glance, the fearful vista of 
an ever-broadening and deepening hell. It is to 
be chained to an inexorable car of tortured being, 
and whirled down the plane of endless years into 
the sullen and angry depths of a bottomless dam- 
nation. It is to see our little ones, our loved ones, 
our nearest and dearest, snatched from our side 
by angel hands, — forbidden to share our misery, 
though they love us well enough to die with us 
and for us, — and borne away to the infinite felici- 
ties of glory, while we are only the faster bound, 
and fiercer driven, into the night of endless gloom 
and torment. It is to feel that, for our condition 
and doom, we alone are responsible ; to be able 
to blame, for our misery, nothing and nobody in 
heaven, earth, or hell save our wretched selves. 
It is to remember that we once had a Saviour who 
would gladly have redeemed us from all this, but 
we voluntarily forsook and cast Him off. It is to 
have outgrown the innocence of our childhood, 
banished its angel from our bosom, cast off the vir- 



164 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

tuous restraints of our youth, summoned the devils 
to our side, and committed to their keeping, in a 
compact from which we can never withdraw, our 
immortal souls. And the terrible bolt of truth 
that rivets us to this fearful doom while " without 
Christ in the world," is the possibility of instant 
death. We might have died " without Christ " at 
any moment before our conversion, and then we 
must have realized far more of woeful truth than 
we have suggested or ever could suggest. " Where- 
fore, remember that, at that time ye were without 
Christ." 

The Apostle exhorts us to remember, also, " that, 
at that time, we were aliens from the common- 
wealth of Israel." By the commonwealth of Is- 
rael is intended, in a spiritual sense, the kingdom 
of God on earth, or the true and invisible Church 
of Christ. It is as though, in the midst of a world 
of human beings, all savage and barbarous, a Ruler 
had appeared and set up an insulated kingdom, 
with all the refinements, arts, and luxuries of the 
highest civilization ; and all who became its citizens 
— and all, by an act of submission, might become 
its citizens — were subject to its laws, protected 
by its government, and entitled to its franchises. 
Within, all was brightness, and beauty, and glory,, 
and peace; but without, there frowned the dark 
wilderness, peopled with dusky forms, and loath- 
some with the horrid rites of savage superstition 
and cruelty. And of these savage and barbarous 
aliens were we. The wilderness of sin was our 
birth-place. There, on the cold rocks,, amid tangled 



THE SPLENDID TPJTTMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 165 

and gloomy thickets, heavy with poisonous dews 
and peopled with devouring monsters, we began 
to be ; and there we must have perished in a mo- 
ment, but that the pitying King saw and snatched 
us from the horrid death ; albeit Himself was 
sorely wounded in the fell encounter with our sav- 
age foes ; and thence, all helpless and unconscious, 
we were borne within the starry gates of Inno- 
cence, and lapped in the tender cares of nursing 
angels till our childhood was safely passed ; and 
thence we wandered, in our wild and thoughtless 
youth, once more into the wilderness of sin ; and 
there we made our home in caves and dens of evil, 
surrounded by monster iniquities that waited im- 
patiently for a little space till the powerful odor of 
our innocence, which we had borne from the city 
of the King, had quite vanished, and they might 
tear us limb from limb, and lap the blood of our 
immortal souls. There were we, aliens, and uncon- 
scious of our alienation ; exposed to a thousand 
dangers, and unconscious of our peril; ripening 
hourly for the maw of greedy and insatiate mon- 
sters, and deeming them friendly and innocuous, 
and covering them with caresses. We had drunk 
of a Circean cup, and had forgotten the beauties 
of the city from which we had wandered, and dis- 
cerned not the horrors with which we were sur- 
rounded, and heard not the cries of mourning from 
friends and kindred. Death, in a thousand forms, 
came near and threatened us, and we saw him not. 
He whetted his grim scythe upon the tombstone of 
our own fathers, and mothers, and sisters, and broth- 



166 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

ers, and wives, and children, and we heard him not. 
He discharged a thousand parks of artillery, and 
mowed down tens of thousands in our sight, and we 
looked on as coldly as if our turn were not coming. 
He plied the musket and the pistol, the bayonet 
and the sabre, the dagger, knife, and bludgeon, and 
poured his poisons all around us ; and we looked 
on as at a tame and meaningless spectacle. 44 Aliens 
from the commonwealth of Israel," without protec- 
tion, law, help, strength, life ; dying every moment, 
and hasting to a deeper, darker, and eternal death, 
— let us remember " that, at that time," such were 
we. 

Again, at the touch of the mighty wand of In- 
spiration, the scene changes, and we are bidden to 
remember that, at that time, 44 we were strangers 
from the covenants of promise." 44 The covenants 
of promise " are the conditions on which God has 
promised to bless and save his people. All who 
comply with these conditions are parties to the 
covenants ; all who refuse to comply, are 44 strangers 
from the covenants." The conditions are repent- 
ance toward God, faith in Jesus Christ, and a holy 
life. Upon these conditions are pledged, to the 
human parties in the covenant, pardon, regenera- 
tion, adoption, assurance, grace, blessing, and im- 
mortal life. To those who are 44 strangers from the 
covenants of promise," there is Divinely pledged 
nothing of good, and all of evil, for time and 
eternity. Whatever kindness they receive in this 
world, is owing to the uncovenanted mercy of God, 
and is designed to lead them to repentance. If 



THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 167 



they do not thus receive and improve it, it adds to 
their guilt, and will deepen their doom. And all 
the time of their hesitation and delay they are 
liable to be suddenly cut off, and made strangers 
forever to the covenants of promise. They have 
no assurance of a single moment's grace or life. 
The wretch upon the scaffold, with the noose upon 
his neck and the drop falling, is safer than they : 
he only drops into eternity — they, certainly into 
hell. The solitary straggler in a lonely sea, who, 
exhausted and about to sink, sees just beneath him 
the expanded jaws of the ravenous shark, is safer 
than they : he can only die an instant, though hor- 
rid death — they must die forever ; and though 
they see them not, the fangs of the undying worm 
are nearer still to them. The clumsy wretch who 
misses his footing on the verge of JEtna's crater, 
and tumbles headlong into the fiery abyss, is safer 
than they : he can only perish in the blazing caul- 
dron of volcanic fire, — they must be plunged into 
a "lake of fire and brimstone," where they. cannot 
die, but be tossed and driven forever in the churn- 
ing waves of unquenchable fire. " Strangers from 
the covenants of promise ! " The fabled hapless 
Jewish prince, driven, by the malediction of the 
long-suffering Christ, to wander always through 
the earth, a stranger in a world of strangers,' is 
happier than they : for, though the weight of 
sorrowful centuries has wrinkled his brow and 
saddened his heart ; though no touch of fellowship 
in kindred or kind can lighten the heavy burden 
of his grief ; and though he must wander on while 



168 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

time endures, restless, woeful, and alone ; yet time 
shall not always endure ; and he may look and lis- 
ten for the trump of judgment and the funeral fires 
of the world, as the signals of his release ; but they 
must wander forever and forever, in the smoky, 
sulphurous, and blighted regions of the damned, 
where the only signal fires shall be those of an ac- 
cumulating torment, and the only trumpet-calls 
the outcries of an immitigable and endless woe. 
And such " strangers from the covenants of prom- 
ise " were we ; and this for some deep purpose the 
Apostle bids us remember to-day. 

And further " that, at that time, we had no 
hope." Thank God, we knew not, in that hour, 
all the doom and danger of our lot; or, in the 
madness of our despair, we must have plucked the 
imminent hell upon our own souls. We were som- 
nambulists of time, risen, in our weird sleep of sin, 
from the peaceful couch of a happier destiny, and 
walking on the dizzy heights of eternal horror. To 
have awaked us all at once, would have been to 
destroy us. The suicides of religious despair are 
simply those wretches who were awaked too sud- 
denly to a perception of the fearful dangers of their 
situation. When God in mercy led us from those 
" slippery places," it was by troubling our hearts 
with a gentle and rational fear and sorrow, under 
whose dominion we sought safety in the arms of 
Christ ; that at his quiet bidding, we might look 
back and behold — not without awful shuddering 
— the height and depth of our former perils. 
We have already surveyed some of them ; and we 



THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 169 



come, now, to " remember that, at that time we 
were without hope in the world." The inky black- 
ness of a night of everlasting despair stretched 
from the horizon to the zenith, and from the ze- 
nith to the horizon again. No warm radiance of 
the Sun of Righteousness illumined us ; no star of 
promise shone even faintly, distantly, and coldly 
upon our path. For why, we had excluded them 
by our own hands. We had hung around the 
illuminating Cross the sullen and impenetrable dra- 
pery of neglect. We had covered the starry mem- 
ories of promise with the ashes of our contempt. 
We " had no hope in the world." Of course we 
dreamed, then, that we did, indeed, possess all 
that we so utterly lacked. In our wild dreams, 
we saw the lost light of hope in everything. It 
seemed to us that there was hope in our life, our 
health, our riches, our honors, our pleasures, our 
friends, our knowledge, wisdom, and power ; but 
alas ! it was only a fleeting dream. Had we 
waked, in that hour, we must have realized what 
was simply true, — that our life was but another 
name for endless death ; that our health was 
hopeless, incurable, and mortal disease; that our 
riches were winged devils, that mocked us with a 
seeming joy, but to deceive and hurry us to a 
swifter damnation ; that our honors were mingled 
of the upas of death and the nightshade of hell ; 
that our pleasures were the poisoned wines of sin, 
and every cup was death ; that our friends, if they 
were evil, like ourselves, would but double, by a 
painful sympathy, the anguish of our future doom, 



170 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

and, if they were virtuous, unlike ourselves, would 
leave us for the bliss of God, and would bequeath 
us the pangs of an immortal bereavement; and 
that our knowledge, wisdom, and power would but 
deepen, explore, and concentrate upon our tortured 
consciousness the horrid revelations of perdition. 
Such was our condition, when " we had no hope 
in the world." 

And now we touch the climax of the fearful 
scene, in the memory " that, at that time, we were 
without God in the world." And O, what is it 
to be " without God in the world ? " It is to be 
the poorest thing in all the wide, wide universe, 
animate or inanimate, sentient or insensate. The 
rocks, and hills, and streams of earth have a God, 
and crystalize in beauty, and tower in majesty, and 
flow in music, at his will. The grass, and flowers, 
and forests have a God, and adorn the earth with 
verdure, and deck it with loveliness, and refresh it 
with odors, and cover it with strength and glory, 
at his bidding. The most minute and ephemeral 
forms of insect life, the birds, the beasts, the fishes, 
have a God, and obey his law. All the processes 
of nature and all the worlds of space have a God, 
and hold their course and places as He wills. All 
redeemed souls — infants, little children, and good 
men — have a God, and worship and obey Him, 
and confide in his love. The saints and angels in 
Glory have a God, and do his will perfectly, and 
find happiness and life in the doing. The devils 
in hell have a God, and tremble as they submit, by 
painful compulsion, to his holy will. Only an un- 



THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 171 



converted sinner is " without God in the world." 
And this by his own fault : God has not forsaken 
him, but he has forgotten and forsaken God. He 
has wandered from the home of his innocence into 
the wilderness of sin, and is a lost child for evermore. 
Wild as the beasts around him, he hides and flies 
from every gentle influence. The angel friends 
whom he has left behind weep as they think of his 
forlorn wanderings, and seek him everywhere ; but 
he will not be found. The tidings of his sad fate 
are tolled, in awful harmony, on all the bells in 
God's broad universe, and startle with thrills of 
painful sympathy the denizens of heaven, earth, 
and hell. For it is no common child that is lost, 
— no beggarly waif of being : he is the heir-appar- 
ent of Immortal Glory. Kingdoms and empires 
seek him, and all in vain. Kingdoms and empires, 
crowns and thrones, are offered in reward for find- 
ing him, and all in vain. He will not be found. 
The Son of God Himself adventures into fearful 
peril to rescue him, encounters and slays his dead- 
liest enemies, and then, all wounded and bleeding, 
calls him in a voice of agony through the universe. 
He will not answer ; he will not be found. And 
lo, fierce, frantic fratricide, parricide, and regi- 
cide in one ! From a cave of guilt where he lay 
concealed, he has hurled the weapon which quivers 
in the heart of his dying Saviour. Ah ! he is 
doubly, trebly, and forever lost. Henceforth he is 
"without God in the world." And such, at that 
time, were we. 

In the latter part of the text, we are furnished 



172 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

with the ground of the Apostle's strange exhorta- 
tion; with the reason for summoning, out of the 
sepulchred past, these frightful ghosts of memory : 
" But now, in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes 
were afar off are made nigh by the blood of 
Christ." Thanks be to God for his unspeakable 
goodness to us ! " Far off," indeed ! to wit, "with- 
out Christ," " aliens from the commonwealth of 
Israel," " strangers from the covenants of prom- 
ise," " having no hope," " without God in the 
world," and momently exposed to be plunged by 
death into that inexorable hell of distance, and 
sealed unto everlasting damnation ! I have been, 
on several occasions, in peril of instant and violent 
death ; separated by an inch of space, and less than 
a second of time, from destruction. The nerve held 
while the peril lasted, and I turned coolly and half 
carelessly to the means of safety. But, once es- 
caped, to look back upon the danger was awful. 
The brain reeled, and the heart turned sick at the 
thought. But never yet the sense of peril past 
hath moved me as the sense of this immortal peril 
past moves me to-day. And you, Christian brother, 
sympathize with me in this shuddering sense of 
safety. We hug ourselves in ecstasy of thought 
that the peril is past, and give glory to God. 
Once, on such an escape as that to which I have 
alluded, my first and only utterance was, " Thank 
God ! " Wicked men who heard the words did not 
deem them strange or misplaced, but turned, with 
pale, quivering lips, to grasp me by the hand. 
Deem it not strange, then, that to-day, from a deep 



THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION". 173 

sense of an immeasurable peril past, we cry, from 
the depth of our grateful hearts, " Thank God ! " 
And this was the first and great end which St. 
Paul sought to accomplish, by summoning us to 
these sad and awful remembrances ; that we might 
appreciate, understand, and rejoice in the salvation 
of Christ ; that our hearts might be melted into 
tenderness of grateful worship, while we realize 
that we have been " brought nigh by the blood of 
Christ ; " so " nigh " that Christ is become our per- 
sonal Saviour and Friend ; so " nigh " that we are 
fellow-citizens, with the saints, of the Kingdom of 
God, and members of the Household of Faith ; so 
" nigh " that we are parties to " the covenants of 
promise," and heirs of all their splendid and im- 
mortal pledges ; so " nigh " that we have a good 
"hope," full of peace, joy, and comfort, in this 
world, and taking hold of eternal happiness in the 
world to come ; so " nigh " that God, the self -exist- 
ent and eternal, is our Father, Helper, and Friend 
forever. Let us, therefore, with calm and tranquil 
joy, magnify the Lord our Saviour. 

But another result, growing out of this ardent 
appreciation of the blessedness of Christ's salva- 
tion, is to put us in effective sympathy with the 
unconverted, and prepare us to labor for their sal- 
vation. In looking upon those places of giddy 
peril, from which our souls were snatched by the 
gracious hand of God, we see them occupied by a 
world of careless and thoughtless sinners. Look- 
ing closer, we recognize among them acquaintances 
and friends. Looking still closer, we see there, all 



174 THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF REDEMPTION. 

unconscious of their danger, wrapped in the weird 
somnambulism of sin, our own parents and children, 
brothers and sisters, husbands and wives. What, 
then, can we do, but fall down on our knees, and 
beg, in unutterable anguish of earnest interest, of 
the same gracious Hand that availed for us, an in- 
terposition in their behalf ? What can we do but 
beckon, warn, entreat, implore ? Alas ! they see 
us not, they hear us not. Only the voice of God's 
pleading Spirit can arouse them ; only the touch 
of Christ's unsealing finger can open their blinded 
eyes. We must summon these celestial Agencies 
to their rescue, or they will be lost. Let us " give 
ourselves unto prayer." It is our only hope, our 
only help. Yet, as we regard their immortal lives, 
let us pray that none of them be suddenly and 
fully roused to see all his peril, lest the sight should 
madden him, and he leap over the precipice of sui- 
cide into the gulf of hell. 



XIV. 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 

11 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and 
all these things shall be added unto you." — Matt. vi. 33. 

It is not to be denied that it is a question, in 
many minds, whether or not there be such a thing 
in this world as Particular Providence ; whether 
the righteous man is more blessed and prospered 
than other men, because of his righteousness, and 
the wicked more cursed and afflicted, because of 
his wickedness. Of this question, we take the 
affirmative, and shall endeavor to show, from the 
joint testimony of Scripture, reason, observation, 
experience, common sense, and consciousness, that 
there is such a distinction in the Divine government, 
in favor of the righteous and opposed to the wicked. 
With general providence, we have nothing to do in 
this discussion, except by way of reference or expla- 
nation. It may safely be taken for granted that 
nobody doubts of this ; since it has been conceded 
by all infidels even, who did not lack understanding 
to perceive that the First Cause must be the Par- 
ent, either directly or remotely, of all effects. The 
only question, indeed, between the Deist and the 
Christian, on the doctrine of general providence, is, 
whether the Divine Being be personally and effi- 



176 



SPECIAL PKOYIDENCE. 



ciently present and operative in the control of hu- 
man affairs, or has committed their course and 
keeping to inflexible laws, and retired from the 
scene. With regard to Particular Providence, 
which the Christian holds, the Deist opposes here 
an unqualified denial ; and in this denial he is sus- 
tained by the unspoken suffrages of nearly every- 
body outside the Church, and a majority of those 
within her pale of membership. It may be thought 
that this is an overstatement; but having made 
the canvass, with some years of observation and 
experience as a pastor, I am satisfied that the facts 
will sustain the assertion. And how, it may be 
asked, has so much infidelity found its way into 
the Church ? A little reflection on the part of 
those who make the inquiry would render all ques- 
tions needless ; for so many doors are open between 
the Church and the world, that it can be no matter 
of legitimate surprise that the tide of worldly senti- 
ment and opinion should run in. In the first place, 
few professors of religion study the Bible enough to 
know what its teachings really are on this point ; 
and how shall they receive what has never been re- 
vealed — to them ? In the second place, many oth- 
ers have no rational conviction of the Divine authen- 
ticity of the Holy Scriptures. Whatever opinion 
they have on this subject they inherited — imbibed 
— from domestic tradition. Their parents believed 
it ; and so do they, after a sort ; but they have no 
idea of its evidences — could not for their lives men- 
tion one of them, and can have, therefore, no great 
veneration for the doctrines of a Book of whose ori- 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 177 

gin, even, they are not distinctly assured. In the 
third place, a majority of the members of all the 
churches are anything but Christians (if by their 
fruits we may know them) ; and it is hardly to be 
wondered at that they should hesitate to receive a 
doctrine which, if true, consigns them to the cor- 
rective temporal judgments of Heaven. In the 
fourth place, as it is impossible to say, from their 
church relations merely, who are and who are not 
Christians, it is correspondingly difficult to deter- 
mine, from observation, whether Providence really 
does favor the good ; and hence many candid per- 
sons are embarrassed in their faith. From these, 
and perhaps other circumstances, the prevalent 
sentiment of the Church even, to-day, is skeptical 
with regard to the doctrine of Particular Provi- 
dence ; and we come now to set down before this 
citadel of their unbelief, with all the enginery of 
truth within our command ; that we may, if possi- 
ble, kindly compel some to believe what it will for- 
ever ruin them to reject. 

We hope and believe that we do not mistake the 
point of real difficulty in the establishment of this 
doctrine. We are aware of certain good conse- 
quences, in a temporal view, which attend the vir- 
tues of honesty, industry, temperance, benevolence, 
and some others, whether these virtues have their 
home in the breast of a Christian or an infidel ; and 
that, were we to devote the present discourse to 
the establishment of such a connection between 
virtue and prosperity, we should set up what no- 
body denies, and overthrow, not a real adversary 
12 



178 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



of the truth, but only our own worthless man of 
straw. The question in dispute is whether, in this 
life, there be a special and efficient Divine interpo- 
sition to bless a higher and deeper piety than this, 
and to punish all grades of wickedness, including 
the loftiest and purest mere morality. 

But ere we proceed to either proof or argument, 
it is necessary that we reach a common understand- 
ing of two terms, which must be frequently em- 
ployed, both in the testimony and the discussion : 
these are, the " righteous " and the " wicked," 
and their Scriptural synonyms. Who is a right- 
eous man ? and who is a wicked man ? according 
to the Scriptures? The answer shall be simple, 
and such, we trust, as will secure the assent of 
every mind. He is a righteous man, who so re- 
pents of his sins, and so believes in Christ, as to 
secure personal pardon and the renewal of his na- 
ture by the Holy Ghost, and who afterwards lives 
in humble obedience to the commands of God; 
and he is a wicked man who — whatever else he 
does or leaves undone — fails thus to repent, be- 
lieve, be pardoned, renewed, and live a life of holy 
obedience to Christ. Although this answer be in 
such obvious accordance with the Scriptures as 
seemingly to need no support, we desire, for the 
benefit of any caviler, to recite these familiar dec- 
larations : " God commandeth all men everywhere 
to repent." " Except ye repent, ye shall all per- 
ish." " He that believeth not, shall be damned." 
44 Except a man be born again, he cannot see the 
kingdom of God." 44 He that saith, I know Him, 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



179 



and keepetk not his commandments, is a liar, and 
the truth is not in him." 

Having settled these preliminary points, we 
ought, perhaps, in strict propriety, first to ques- 
tion the Bible for the truth of the doctrine of 
Particular Providence. But, for the present, — 
and reserving this branch of the testimony for 
future and more extended reference and adduc- 
tion, — we are content to remark, on this point, 
that every promise of temporal good and every 
threat of temporal evil which the Book contains, 
and nearly every incident illustrative of either 
which it records, is in proof of this doctrine. 
Either, then, this is true ; or the whole Book is a 
fable and a blind ; calculated to deceive alike the 
careless reader and the earnest student. Are we 
not, then, rationally shut up to an election between 
a hearty acceptance of this doctrine, and an un- 
qualified rejection of the Bible as the Word of 
God? 

And what is there unreasonable in the proposi- 
tion ? that we should so start back and refuse to 
acknowledge that God, in his providence, makes a 
difference in favor of those who love and obey 
Him, and against those who rebel and will not 
serve Him ? The first and most popular objec- 
tion is, that this difference cannot be readily dis- 
cerned ; that it is not miraculously manifested, as it 
was in former times ; and, it is thought, as it might 
and would be now, if it were true, and if God 
wished to commend it to the faith of men. We 
may remark, here, that however consistent this 



180 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



objection may be with the views of avowed unbe- 
lievers, it must simply disgrace the professor of 
religion who utters it ; for has he not subscribed 
to this doctrine again and again, both tacitly and 
formally ? Has he not solemnly taken the Word 
of God as the only and sufficient rule of his faith ? 
And is not this doctrine plainly and amply set 
forth in the Bible ? How then shall any man, 
who names Christ with ostensible love and rever- 
ence, dare for very shame, to intimate a doubt of 
the truth of the doctrine of Special Providence ? — 
unless, indeed, he be an inquirer, just starting in 
the Christian life, and honestly seeking an issue, 
out of the mist and gloom of all mental uncer- 
tainty, into the broad light of implicit and un- 
wavering faith. Then, indeed, his doubts do him 
honor; and the Church should gladly help him 
with all the proofs and arguments within her 
reach. 

But we submit, further, for the consideration of 
those church-members who do not heartily em- 
brace this doctrine, that their doubts take away 
the very ground- work of their Christianity ; for 
implicit trust in the Particular Providence of God 
is one of the terms of genuine repentance and 
faith. No man can repent or believe, to the sav- 
ing of his soul, standing on any other ground of 
trust. And the reason is obvious. Man makes 
an idol of the things of this world; gives them 
his time, thoughts, talents, all ; in a word, wor- 
ships them. But these things perish in the using ; 
and cannot make him happy here ; if there were 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



181 



no hereafter. God compassionates and proposes 
to relieve, to elevate, to redeem him ; but it is on 
condition that he cease to seek these, and seek 
only Him. Can man comply with this condi- 
tion ? Can he give his mind, time, energies, all 
to spiritual objects, unless he believes that God 
will take especial care of his temporal interests ? 
Certainly he cannot. And it is in gracious conde- 
scension to this fact of our nature, that we are 
everywhere, in the Bible, so explicitly assured 
that, if we give our hearts to God, He will pro- 
vide specially and peculiarly for us. This is why 
Christ says, "Seek ye first — or above and beyond 
all else — the kingdom of God, and all these tem- 
poral comforts, after which unbelievers seek, shall 
be added unto you." Then, is it not clear that 
whoever says, " I do not believe hi the Special 
Providence of God," says also, by implication, to 
all reflecting people, " I have not given my heart 
to God — I am yet in my sins ? " 

But to return to the objection : " The Particu- 
lar Providence of God, in behalf of Christians 
and against shiners, is not obvious." So thought 
and said those who lived in the earlier ages of the 
world. There was as much incredulity then as 
now. The Egyptians, after a series of miraculous 
judgments, did not yet believe that God was the 
especial Friend of the Israelites and their Enemy ; 
nor would they believe it, till God overthrew their 
king and all his host in the Red Sea. The chil- 
dren of Israel, themselves, did not cordially em- 
brace it; and hence God slew them,, by pesti- 



182 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



lence and sword, and finally scattered them 
throughout the world. From all which it would 
appear, that miraculous providences are not neces- 
sarily productive of genuine and saving faith ; and 
that were the Almighty to multiply these won- 
ders, it is by no means certain that He would 
thereby benefit the human race. It is a simple 
fact — attested by all history — that the efficacy 
of God's wonderful judgments in leading men to 
repentance, is greatly owing to their infrequency. 
" Could we believe," says Richard Watson, " only 
those spiritual truths which we saw miraculously 
attested, there would come to be, at last, neither 
miracles nor faith ; since that which was common 
would be no miracle, and would produce neither 
terror, surprise, nor conviction." 

We have never thought much of the argument, 
that whoever consents to a general providence, 
must also admit a special; because, as it is held, 
the special is, by force of terms, included in and 
constitutes the general. This may serve to silence 
objectors ; but it fails to convince them. The 
truth is, some clearer analysis is needed; by 
which the special Divine interference may be dis- 
tinguished from the general Divine efficiency. 
And in order to compass, as far as we may, so 
desirable an end, we suggest — with Isaac Taylor, 
following here his masterly analysis and using 
some even of his admirable expressions — that all 
life's events are made up of two classes: those 
which may, and those which may not, be fore- 
known by human sagacity. On the former class, 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



183 



are built all rational calculations of comfort and 
prosperity. The farmer knows when to sow and 
plant. The merchant understands the market, 
and knows how and when to invest. The lawyer 
is familiar with precedents and the rules of evi- 
dence, and can calculate their probable influence 
upon the issue in hand. The doctor recognizes 
the symptoms of disease, and can foresee the prob- 
able effects of his medicines. These all are parts 
of the general providence of God. But what far- 
mer has not been disappointed in his hopes of 
harvest, by the drought or flood? What mer- 
chant or capitalist has not felt the effects of fire, 
or fraud, or a sudden fluctuation in the market? 
What lawyer has not mislaid his brief, or forgot- 
ten or neglected a point, or lost a paper, which has 
cost him his case ? What doctor has not mistaken 
the symptoms of disease, by an unhappy chance, 
and only killed where he came to cure? Now 
these accidents, chances, fortuities — or whatever 
we choose to name them — are the sphere of the 
special providence of God. These are the stores 
from which Infinite Efficiency draws its rewards 
for the good and its punishments for the bad; 
while the Divine hand which thus blesses or chas- 
tises, is seldom or never seen. We repeat, that 
the teaching of the Scriptures and what all Chris- 
tians must maintain is, that out of this store-house 
of fortuities, God draws special deliverances for 
his own people, and extraordinary troubles for the 
wicked. And who is there who, if he reflects, will 
not be forced to admit that his career, his life, his 



184 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



character, have been more deeply and permanently 
affected by some most unexpected incidents, than 
by all the events which he could have predicted ? 
And now if he will still further recall the moral 
drift of all these seeming chances ; that they came 
from one direction, and point to a single end ; that 
they have seemed, at times, to have solemn voices, 
like the tones of his better angel summoning him 
to duty ; if he will recall and reflect upon these 
things, he will find them, all at once, invested 
with the attributes of intelligence and power ; and 
will look up in humble adoration of the particular 
providence of his God. 

But a new question will arise here, in some 
minds : what is the breadth of that tide of fortui- 
tous circumstance that flows through the world to 
refresh and bless the good, and to overwhelm and 
sweep away the bad. It is not to be denied that 
those things deemed and termed accidental, are 
the simple effects of natural causes, though the 
connection lies beyond our power to discern. In 
the bursting, for example, of an iron shell filled 
with explosive materials, every seeming chance 
fragment — whether buried in earth or hurled a 
measureless distance in ether, or unsealing the red 
tide of human life — undoubtedly obeys a law; 
and did we perfectly understand that law, we 
might accurately foresee all the effects of the ex- 
plosion. So "the pestilence that walketh at mid- 
night " unseen by human eye, and " the destruc- 
tion that wasteth at noon-day" — caring naught 
for human resistance — and every accidental dis- 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



185 



ease and circumstance of violence by which the 
life of man or beast is imperilled or destroyed, 
has its immediate cause, which is first published to 
us by the effect, and which then seems easily evi- 
table. " I see," says the doctor, turning away 
from his dying patient, — " I see now, how I might 
have saved him." " I see," says the statesman, 
whose country is ruined or disgraced, — "I see now 
the point of my divergence from that high path 
which led to her safety and her glory." "I see," 
says the chieftain, looking upon the wounds of 
his living and the bodies of his dead soldiers — the 
wreck of his defeated and broken and scattered 
army, — " I see now how I lost the battle ; and how 
I might have won it." And thus it is, that men 
come to believe, seeing that all events seem to de- 
pend on second causes, that God never interferes. 
They are partly right and partly wrong. Nearly 
if not quite all life's events do depend on second 
causes. But in what follows, namely, that there- 
fore they ought to conclude God never interferes, 
they are wholly wrong : wrong because they con- 
tradict Him, who assures them that he does inter- 
fere ; wrong because they contradict reason, which 
teaches them that He may interpose without 
visibly or palpably manifesting his agency to 
them ; and that He ought to exert his power, 
when the good would otherwise suffer and the evil 
triumph. Why should He do open violence to the 
constitution of Nature, when He would regulate 
her course and motion with reference to human 
contingencies and for moral ends ? Would He 



186 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



not be a most clumsy Artist, if He could not put 
his hand to his own work without setting the 
whole machinery ajar, breaking its order and 
marring its harmony ? And are we not most ig- 
norant and unreflecting spectators when, because 
we cannot see his hand, we stupidly conclude that 
it is not there, though all the results declare it ? . 

Let it be supposed — for the purpose of obtain- 
ing a bird's-eye view of a scene otherwise too ex- 
tended for our imperfect mental vision — that 
there existed, at this time, and in the room in 
which we are now sitting, a being in the form 
of man, of sufficient resources — power, wisdom, 
goodness — to create and exhibit in a moment, 
before our eyes, a miniature world ; that it were 
peopled with men and animals and formed, in all 
respects, an exact counterpart of the one on which 
we live ; that it had its brief seasons, its storms, its 
sunshine, its peace and war, its joy and sorrow; 
and all so arranged that the little men and women, 
who lived and loved and hated and died upon its 
surface, could not see the Hand that created and 
upheld them, and controlled and influenced all 
their affairs, while we could see it all very plainly ; 
how the loving eye of the Master took in every- 
thing — knew and rewarded the good and pun- 
ished the bad, through the laws, agencies, and 
instrumentalities of their own little world — Him- 
self all the while unseen ; never jarring violently, 
or disturbing, the even course of its affairs. And 
let it be supposed, that we could understand the 
language of this tiny race, and catch the drift of 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



187 



their thoughts and conversation ; that their origin, 
destiny, and dependence upon the Hand that 
formed them, had been clearly and authentically 
revealed to them ; and that yet, — because the 
Power which controlled and regulated their affairs 
for moral and beneficent ends operated through 
familiar instrumentalities, and they could not see 
it bare and terrible on every occasion of its dis- 
play, — that therefore some little philosopher, 
among them, should propound the theory that 
there was really no such governing Power in exist- 
ence ; and that the great majority of the little 
folk, who heard him, should consent to what he 
said, and agree to deny, along with him, their 
constant dependence upon, and moral training 
under that Power whose application we all the 
time could plainly see. Should we not smile at 
a delusion so silly, and wonder how it was possible 
that it should take such deep hold upon creatures 
as rational as ourselves ? O ! to those higher In- 
telligences who stand in the broad light of God's 
providence to men, how stupid must seem the con- 
clusions of our human reason ! 

But there is a class of minds whose conjectures, 
started by this apparent dependence of all events 
upon second causes, soar still further into the dim 
regions of speculation, and become involved in 
wider and deeper perplexities. They find them- 
selves involuntarily dwelling upon such questions 
as these : " How know I that those events which 
obey a law of necessity are limited to the material 
world? Are there not, between this and the 



188 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



spiritual, such strong analogies as render their sim- 
iliarity of constitution, and corresponding depend- 
ence upon law, extremely probable ? Is not action 
the necessary effect of volition? Is not volition 
the necessary consequence of motive ? Is not mo- 
tive the necessary result of circumstances ? And 
may not all circumstance be necessitated ? Really, 
and truly, and philosophically, is there such a 
thing as contingency in the world ? " 

It may be thought singular that we should start 
such a question here ; one so difficult and purely 
metaphysical, and into the discussion of which, be- 
sides, we have not time to adventure at any 
length. But when we remember that this point 
is always made, by thos^ more cultivated and 
thoughtful intellects which hesitate to receive the 
doctrine of Particular Providence ; and when we 
reflect that if it have any weight, or seem in the 
least degree probable, that whole doctrine must 
fall to the ground — at least in the conclusions of 
such minds — as a simple absurdity, we shall see 
that the discussion of this subject would have 
been, without such allusion, to say the least, in- 
complete. 

For the present we have but a single word of 
answer to all such speculations ; and it lies in the 
fact — patent to all observation and the earliest, 
latest, and most constant testimony of conscious- 
ness — that Mind, wherever it exists and in what- 
ever degree, is a power ; — an orignal, self-moving, 
self -controlling, self -willing power ; — that it is 
anterior to motive, superior to it, and can and 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



189 



does always increase or diminish its influence at 
pleasure. And we confirm this truth by the chal- 
lenge that no rational man ever succeeded for ten 
consecutive minutes in making himself believe its 
converse. God has mercifully set before that 
precipice of error the guardian-angel Conscious- 
ness; who will not let us cast ourselves down. 
But there is danger, if we linger about the fatal 
brink and wait till the watchman slumbers, that 
we may pass him unheeded, and take our frenzied 
leap into the gulf of Madness. 

Thus, all rational pursuit of moral truth must 
start from the platform of the open and patent 
contingencies of life. And starting from this 
point, we desire to be informed what there is in 
the doctrine of God's Particular Providence to 
men, which does not bring, in confirmation and 
attestation of its Divine seal, the sanction of the 
highest and purest attributes of reason ! 

We have first the strong presumption, based 
upon the revealed character of the Creator and 
Governor of all, and upon the existing constitu- 
tion of things, that according to our Divinely im- 
parted ideas of right and justice, God ought to, 
and therefore would interfere frequently to de- 
liver his own faithful servants from the machi- 
nations of the wicked. Since he lacks not the 
will to do it, nor the power to do it; and since 
the doing of it would better consist with that high 
estimate of his character for wisdom and good- 
ness with which He Himself has possessed us : is 
it not fair to conclude that — from a proper regard 



190 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



for the consistency of his character as shown in 
Providence, with the same character as revealed in 
the Bible — God should and would, in the quality 
and significance of those events which it is admit- 
ted He either directly or indirectly produces and 
controls, illustrate the sanctions eternally affixed 
to the law which governs moral agents ? 

And when we further reflect that the human 
race, as a whole, stand in the utmost need of those 
illustrations ; that hell has thrown itself upon the 
earth with a shock which has jarred it from its 
place and harmony with God and heaven ; that 
its original constitution — as written by the finger 
of creative Power upon its fair and lovely features 
— has been so mutilated and defaced by the hoof- 
prints of the fiends who have long usurped its 
possession and control, that men, even the wisest 
and best, can with difficulty make out its mean- 
ing; that it is full of ignorance, idolatry, licen- 
tiousness, and blood ; — when we think of these 
things, what reason can look upon God as the 
calm, uninterested, unmoved Spectator of a scene 
which, without conflict with any principle of his 
Government, He might remedy, in large degree, 
by a Special Providence ? 

We have in the second place, in support of this 
view, a rational construction and interpretation of 
the accidents of life. Why should there be such 
events ? Why should chance have power to defeat 
our best-laid schemes ? Why are not human cal- 
culations always justified by their result ? — as it 
is admitted they commonly are ? Has any philos- 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



191 



opher ever told us why ? Would there not exist 

— then and in that case — the pure and exclusive 
general providence for which he so strenuously 
contends ? Why should this providence be inter- 
rupted, marred, defeated, by events so unexpected 
and out of rule as utterly to baffle all human 
sagacity ? But the philosopher will repeat his 
old formula: "It must be so." But why must 
it be so ? What is the moral ground of this as- 
sumed necessity ? There can be no physical ne- 
cessity, since we speak of the effects of a Power 
whose wish can wither or create a material uni- 
verse. Why, then, should we not have a perfect 
general providence, unmarred by the cruel fortui- 
ties of life ? Why this accumulation of chances 

— this magazine of accidents? Can human in- 
genuity assign even a plausible reason, aside from 
the moral condition and circumstances of the race, 
which render the Particular Providence of God an 
essential condition of the experiment of man's con- 
tinued being on the earth? Then, let it be re- 
membered that upon the front of every chance 
which crosses the threshold of our consciousness, 
there is inscribed a name : " The Angel of Special 
Providence." 

And this title all the effects of chance will jus- 
tify. On this point recollection and reflection 
must stand for all argument : and we invite every 
candid mind to the experiment. Let any man, 
saint or sinner, gather in one group the accidents 
of his life — or so many of them as will obey the 
summons of memory — and question them of 



192 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



their mission to him : with one voice they will 
reply and in a tone which will scatter his skepti- 
cism to the winds, " We came to lead you, through 
repentance and faith, to God ; we came to guide 
you to heaven." 

We have in the third place, in support of this 
view, the instinctive recognition of its truth by all 
wicked men, when visited by calamity. The 
skeptical gentleman who lives at his ease, sur- 
rounded by all the luxuries and delights of 
wealth; or rejoices in the honorable toils of a 
noble profession ; or exults in the precarious re- 
wards of popular favor ; while the caressing hands 
of Love and the supporting arms of Friendship 
surround and embrace him ; may, while thus 
filled and thrilled with all the joys of possession, 
doubt of the Special Providence of God, and think 
and say that all has fallen out according to his 
own wise foresight and prudent energy ; but when 
war, or fire, or flood, or fraud has beggared him ; 
when professional success has forsaken him for 
his rival; when his popular honors have been 
transferred to other brows ; when Love is dead 
and buried, and Friendship has deceived, deserted, 
and betrayed him : then, then, he never fails to 
recognize and acknowledge the particular provi- 
dence of God; whether in angry complaints or 
in the tones of humble and pious submission, it 
matters nothing, it is of equal value to the ar- 
gument ; in calamity, he kneels or cowers to the 
Providence which he denied in prosperity. 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



193 



So the successful villain who dedicates his life 
to fraud and theft and robbery and rapine ; or 
wreaks his fierce revenge in murder ; or roams the 
ocean under the pirate's flag ; while yet for a 
time he is successful ; while his guilty hoards 
increase, and no sword of justice seems to hang, 
hair-suspended, above his head ; ere yet the blood 
upon his hand has become a " damned spot " 
which will not " out " at the bidding of his spirit's 
wildest and strongest remorse ; ere yet it has 
eaten into his soul, and poisoned his dreams, and 
made his life one long, long agony ; while yet his 
swift keel ploughs the wave, and his blood-red 
pennant floats above him, the terror of the world's 
commerce, may, while thus unchecked in his ca- 
reer, laugh at the teachings of the Christian pul- 
pit, and defy the Heavens. But when the form of 
even that human Justice which is but a faint and 
sickly symbol of the Divine, rises suddenly and 
severely in his path ; when he finds himself impris- 
oned and manacled, and his family impoverished 
and disgraced ; when he stands upon the scaffold, 
to look his last upon the sun and sky ; when the 
lightnings have riven and fired his blood-stained 
deck ; then, then the robber, the murderer, the 
PIRATE ! talks of the judgments of Heaven ; and 
what is this, but to talk of the Special Providence 
of God ? O ! it would seem as if a Divine hand 
did sometimes almost visibly tear from the eyes 
of Skepticism and Crime — despite the wildest ca- 
vils of the one and the darkest deeds of the other 
— the blinding webs which sophistry and success 

13 



194 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



had woven there, that for one fearful moment 
between time and eternity they might come into 
the court of Human Reason, and with the white 
and trembling lips of the doomed dead, bear wit- 
ness to the truth of God's Particular Providence 
to men ! 

We have in the fourth place, in support of this 
view, the official indorsement of every enlightened 
nation on the globe. What is the meaning of 
those proclamations which come from the seat of 
government of every nation where civilization has 
triumphed over barbarism and progressed into 
enlightenment, alike when prosperity blesses and 
when adversity threatens, and which, in most rev- 
erent and solemn tones summon the people of the 
land to the altars of God for thanksgiving, humil- 
iation, and prayer ? What is the meaning of those 
permanent records to be found in the judicial, leg- 
islative, and executive departments of all these 
governments, and of those official dispatches which 
come flying even from the camp and the battle- 
field, in which the issues of war and the absolute 
and special control of the destinies of nations are 
referred to Heaven ? Whence arises that strange 
inconsistency in the conduct of some infidel states- 
men, which impels them, when they reach that 
political elevation whence they can look out over 
the nations, however the act may conflict with 
the cherished and avowed principles of their lives, 
to acknowledge publicly the Special Providence 
of God in the affairs of those nations ? What 
mean these national acknowledgments of Particu- 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



195 



lar Providence ? Is all this the language of hypo- 
critical mummery, or is it the utterance of the 
conscience of all lands? If the latter, in one 
thing, at least, " the voice of the people is the 
voice of God." 

And now can we longer withhold — from the 
truth of a doctrine which is clearly and explicitly 
taught in the Bible ; which is strengthened by a 
rational interpretation of the accidents of our in- 
dividual lives ; which is confirmed by every rea- 
sonable presumption of which the case admits ; 
which is sanctioned by the honest utterances of all 
hearts in times of trouble, and which is sealed 
with the official acknowledgments of all the en- 
lightened nations of the earth — our cordial, full, 
and final consent ? Or will we not rather say to 
the skeptical fiend that has so long beset us, " 4 Get 
thee behind me, Satan ! ' stand no longer in the 
light of my faith ! darken no longer my prospect 
of God and Heaven ! for henceforth I will see, 
and seeing worship, that divine Father whose 
tender care and watchful providence arrange and 
control the events of life, to discipline my wild 
and untamed spirit for the mightier tasks reserved 
for its energies in the eternal world ? " 

But it further seems natural that we should 
desire to be assured, and proper that the pulpit 
should endeavor, to the extent of its resources, to 
satisfy us, how far the Special Providence of God 
is intended to affect, and does actually influence, 
the temporal fortunes of its subjects ; in other 
words, upon how much of Divine assistance we are 



196 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



authorized to count, rationally and Scripturally, 
upon condition of our faithful compliance with all 
the requirements of Heaven. And for this reason : 
God would never have proposed that we should 
enter his service on terms of temporal advantage 
to ourselves, without intending that we should 
weigh and appreciate that advantage. But He 
has, in clear and express terms, set before our obe- 
dience a temporal blessing, and before our dis- 
obedience a temporal curse ; undoubtedly that we 
might be led by the one to holiness, and repelled 
by the other from sin. But our attraction to good, 
or our repulsion from evil, will be in a proportion 
strictly exact to our appreciation of the blessing 
and our terror of the curse. Now this temporal 
blessing for the good, and this temporal curse for 
the evil, constitute the Particular Providence of 
God : they are the hands with which He produces 
and controls events with reference to moral ends ; 
and it is therefore our right and duty, if we may, 
to assure ourselves how far they reach. We have 
already established — if there be reliableness in 
reason when acting within Scriptural limits and 
under Scriptural sanctions — the fact of Special 
Providence. Let us then take, for our postulate 
in what remains to be said, this truth : that God 
produces and controls the events of life, with ref- 
erence to human contingencies and moral ends, so 
as, in greater or less degree, especially to bless the 
good, and peculiarly to punish the bad, and pro- 
ceed to inquire how great is that degree. 

There are four circumstances, in one or more, or 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



197 



all of which Special Providence touches men, or it 
touches them in nothing: these are sustenance, 
health, safety, and social enjoyment ; and besides 
these, there are no other appreciable points of con- 
tact between a Divine temporal blessing or curse 
and a human agent. The question is, to how 
many of these does the Divine smile or frown ex- 
tend ? and how far are they affected by either or 
both? 

It is written, " Behold I set before you a bless- 
ing and a curse : a blessing if ye obey, a curse if ye 
will not obey." " If ye obey, the Lord shall make 
you plenteous in goods, and in all the works of 
your hands ; but if ye will not obey, all these 
curses " — naming almost every conceivable evil — 
" shall come upon you." "If ye obey and serve 
Him, ye shall spend your days in prosperity and 
your years in pleasures ; but if ye obey not, ye shall 
perish by the sword." " Whatsoever the righteous 
man doeth shall prosper ; but the ungodly are not 
so." " The righteous shall be fed in the days of 
famine ; but the wicked shall perish." " Because 
thou hast made the Lord thy refuge, there shall 
no evil befall thee ; only shalt thou see the reward 
of the wicked." "Whoso hearkeneth unto Me, 
shall dwell safely ; but the wicked shall be cut off 
from the earth." And it is said by Him who is 
the Truth, " Seek ye first the kingdom of God 
and his righteousness, and all these things " — 
plenty, health, safety, happiness — " shall be added 
unto you." 

Thus far the Bible, by whose express terms God 



4 



198 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 

is pledged for the sustenance, health, safety, and 
social enjoyment of those who trust and obey him. 
It is written, " They shall have plenty." It is 
written, " I will take sickness away from the midst 
of them." It is written, " They shall be safe." 
It is written, " They shall spend their years in 
pleasures." And all because of their righteous- 
ness. And so of the wicked it is written, "They 
shall hunger, and thirst, and want." It is written, 
" They shall suffer pain, disease, and pestilence." 
It is written, " They shall be wounded and slain 
by the sword." It is written, " They shall cry for 
sorrow of heart." And all because of their wick- 
edness. To the humble believer in the Scriptures, 
then, the controversy is ended, since God has 
spoken ; but even he may desire explanations, and 
there are others who would like to ask questions. 

And first, " do I understand you to teach that 
God engages that the Christian shall be rich ? " 
By no means. On the contrary, the Bible forbids 
most Christians to be rich. It forbids all to seek 
riches. It forbids all to accumulate riches. " Lay 
not up for yourselves treasures on earth " is the 
Divine command; accompanied and enforced by 
the philosophic sanction, " for where your treasure 
is there will your heart be also." We can conceive 
of but three ways in which a Christian may inno- 
cently become rich : by gift, inheritance, or acci- 
dent. And even then he may not suffer his riches 
to accumulate. And he who makes himself rich 
— who by agricultural, mechanical, professional, 
mercantile, or speculative gains, accumulates and 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



199 



keeps in his possession more than enough for the 
supply of his reasonable wants, is disobeying the 
command of Christ, and rearing a golden barrier 
between his soul and Heaven more solid and im- 
passible, I doubt not, than any other which Satanic 
hands and ingenuity can build. And the reason is 
obvious. He who accumulates wealth becomes, by 
simple virtue of the process, its slave. Avarice is 
his ruling passion. Mammon is his god. "It is 
easier " — if we will accept for testimony the oath 
of the divine Son — " for a camel to go through the 
eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into 
the kingdom of God." No, God does not promise 
the Christian riches; but He does promise him 
plenty and prosperity ; and He will always make 
good that pledge. 

Indeed, why should it not be so ? Since the 
very terms on which he becomes a Christian imply 
the faithful use of all the means by wliich plenty 
is commonly secured ; since the God who supplies 
every creature's wants is his special Friend ; since 
He cannot lack resources, even in the greatest 
emergencies, to fulfill his word ; and since such 
supply will render the true Christian more useful, 
and holy, and grateful, and happy ; why should 
not all his temporal wants be amply supplied ? 

" Undoubtedly," the objector will reply, " there 
is no- reason why God should not take care of the 
Christian, to the extent which you suppose. But 
that is not the question. Does He so far provide ? 
is rather the point in dispute. And somewhat un- 
fortunately for your theory there exist, under com- 



200 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



mon observation, instances of Christians living in 
the greatest straits of poverty. And to put the 
matter beyond all question, can you deny that the 
beggar Lazarus, who lay at the rich man's gate, 
and fed with the dogs upon the crumbs from his 
table, was a Christian ? How, then, does such a 
circumstance, if there were no other, comport with 
your doctrine of Special Providence ? " 

Before answering the objector fully, we* beg 
leave to remind him of two circumstances. First, 
the doctrine which I defend and enforce is not 
mine, but God's; set forth in the Scriptures in 
terms which he who disputes may as reasonably 
question any and all other teachings of the Book. 
And secondly, the proof of one or several instances, 
merely exceptional to the mass of facts, does not 
invalidate the common rule of their interpretation. 
But we are not willing to concede that, in this 
case, the objector has found even an exception to 
the rule. And in order that we may be fully un- 
derstood on this point, and not have Lazarus 
thrown again in the face of our argument, we de- 
sire to suggest a twofold distinction between Chris- 
tians, which common sense and observation will 
not fail to sanction. There are, then, in the world, 
Christians of sound and vigorous mental and phys- 
ical constitution, who can work wisely and effi- 
ciently with reference to any desirable end of 
human effort ; and there are others of unsound 
mental or physical constitution, or both, who either 
cannot work at all, or cannot work wisely and effi- 
ciently so as to secure the objects which they de- 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



201 



sire and intend. Now the heavenly Father exer- 
cises over both these classes the same Special Prov- 
idence ; albeit, like the bearing of an earthly parent 
towards his maimed or deformed child, it may be 
tenderer towards these helpless ones. But He will 
work no miracle in their behalf. Broken in con- 
stitution or feeble in mind, whether from inher- 
ited weakness or previous imprudence, it matters 
not, the feeble in mind is feeble still, after his 
conversion to Christianity as before ; the lazar is 
a lazar still ; though to both the hour approaches 

— how gladly welcomed who but they can know ? 

— when angel hands shall transport them from 
the gates of Dives, and the sneering sympathies 
of men, to a home " in Abraham's bosom." But 
on all these, while they linger in the world, falls 
the benison of Heaven's Special Providence ; seen 
not less distinctly by the eye of pious Faith — and 
we might add, and do aver, of sound Reason — in 
the crumbs which reach them from the tables of 
the rich, and in the dumb ministers whose caresses 
soothe their anguish, than in the higher health and 
energy and more abundant fortunes of the chosen 
vessels of Heaven. Religion does not make a 
lazar, nor unmake him ; but it can and does bless 
him on earth, and recompense him in Heaven. 

But there remains to be noticed, for the com- 
plete understanding of this point, another distinc- 
tion between Christians, based on moral grounds. 
Among those called by the Christian name, some 

— a very few it must be confessed — are Scrip- 
tural Christians ; entirely devoted to the service of 



202 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



God. Now these, and these only, comply with the 
conditions on which God has promised constant- 
ly to provide for their temporal wants. And did 
any one ever hear of such a Christian forsaken in 
trouble by friends and Heaven ? Did any one ever 
hear of such a Christian's children, even, " beg- 
ging bread ? " If so, his observation has been 
more extensive than was that of the old prophet, 
warrior, and poet-king of Israel ; who testified to 
the Special Providence of God, in behalf of the 
truly righteous, in these very terms. 

But there is another and much larger class of 
Christians, who only rise periodically and for a 
longer or shorter space of time, according to tem- 
perament and circumstances, to the discharge of 
every Christian duty and the full consecration of 
themselves to God. Now these, if Christians at 
all in a strict sense, are such only occasionally and 
at intervals. They may have been genuinely con- 
verted ; but in a few weeks or months, they lose 
their first love. They may be revived again and 
again, and set out anew to serve God with all their 
hearts ; but the high purpose soon dies : they be- 
come cold, backslidden, selfish, worldly. It cannot 
be questioned — by any one who studies the word 
of God and thinks — that the greater part of such 
lives is spent in sin ; and that by consequence, God 
is absolved from all obligation to bless these per- 
sons with temporal prosperity, save only during 
those intervals in which they serve Him with all 
their hearts. On the contrary He is expressly 
pledged — and the pledge is sanctioned by reason 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



203 



and benevolence — to afflict them with temporal 
chastisement, in order to bring them back to duty. 
Let there be a perpetual end, then, to that false 
and shallow cry against the doctrine of Special 
Providence, that 44 some very good Christians are 
afflicted as much as other people ! " They are un- 
fortunate because of incapacity; or they are af- 
flicted because of their sins ; because they are not 
Christians, and not because they are. And here 
I may be justified in an appeal to the personal 
consciousness of every individual who knows, in 
himself, that he belongs to this class of Christians. 
Say, then, if during the hours or days of your in- 
timate union with God and communion with 
Christ, all temporal things, even, did not go well 
with you ? — if Mercy were not written on every 
hour, and on every event ? — and if, during those 
supreme moments of your life, when you rose to 
breathe the purer atmosphere and look upon the 
cloudless prospect of spiritual things, there ever 
swept athwart your soul one shadow of doubt of 
the particularly kind providence of God to you ? 

But there is still another class of Christians who 
comprise, unfortunately for the Church and the 
world, an overwhelming majority of all the pro- 
fessors of godliness on the earth. These all are 
strangers to vital piety. A few of them may be 
able to recall a time when they were, as they 
thought, truly religious ; but that time has long 
passed. They are now, and have been for years, 
completely and hopelessly backslidden. They have 
lost the desire, and ceased to make the effort, to be- 



204 



SPECIAL PKOVIDENCE. 



conie Christians ; yet they are very good people, too, 
they think. Conscience does not reprove them : 
the reason why, she dares not ! There was a time 
when she uttered her warning voice ; but they so 
maltreated and abused her, that she is afraid. 
They put out her eyes, and stopped her ears, and 
cut out her tongue, and seared her with the world's 
hot iron, till she is dumb ! — dumb till the judg- 
ment ! And so they think that they are very 
good people indeed. Theirs is a rational and 
practical and practicable view of religion; it is 
that of the majority ; it will do very well; and if 
all is not quite right — as they are sometimes in- 
clined to suspect — they will make it up by a lit- 
tle extra preparation when they come to die ! 
Others have joined the Church from interested 
motives, because it will help them along in life, 
and at the same time, as they imagine, help them 
to heaven at last. Others have been led by sym- 
pathy with their religious friends, to unite with 
them in a Christian profession. Others intend to 
gain heaven by their good works ; and joining 
the Church is the first step. Others have no mo- 
tive at all, except that such a course is fashionable 
and seemly for persons of their position in life. 
Others are enthusiasts and fanatics. Others are 
formalists. And still others — a very few, for the 
honor of human nature, we would fain hope and 
do believe — are double-dyed hypocrites ; confess- 
ing, even to themselves, no motive but interest, 
and laughing, in their hearts, at all the idle mum- 
meries of religion, which they practice with such 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



205 



solemn faces. Now, I need hardly say, that the 
outward lives of many of this numerous class are 
as consistent as those of true Christians. They 
are as diligent, as honest, as sober, as generous, 
as faithful in observances; and some of them — 
the hypocrites — are the very loudest of all pro- 
fessors of religion. Like all who act a part, they 
overact it. But it suffices to deceive the careless 
and little -judging world. They are set down, in 
the mass, as so many Christians. But is it not 
plain that they are sinners? Is it not plain that 
they are the worst of sinners ? Is it not plain that 
they more dishonor God, and more vitally injure 
his cause, than all the world besides ? What does 
He owe them then ? A Special Providence ? Yes ; 
but its rewards are punishments ; its treasures are 
judgments ; its notices are afflictions. Of all men 
and women, upon whom the curse of disobedience 
falls in this life, ought it not to fall heaviest upon 
them ? But the world is deceived ; because some 
of them are reckoned eminent Christians — among 
the best ; and they themselves are led to doubt of 
the Special Providence of God! It is a mystery 
which they cannot understand ; why if God spe- 
cially provides for the good, such superlatively good 
people as they should be deprived of the benefit of 
such an arrangement ! Let us not then hereafter 
— unless we are content to make the very modest 
claim of omniscience — venture to object against 
the doctrine of Special Providence that very good 
Christians are afflicted as much as other people. 
Rather let us accept the unqualified Divine and 



206 



SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 



rational assurance that, if we are Christians in 
deed, we shall always have plenty and prosper- 
ity, health and peace, safety and happiness ; for, 
for all these things, God's pledge is our security ; 
and let us have the courage and the honesty to 
confess when He chastens us, that it is for our sins ; 
and no longer hold up our hands and cry, " Mys- 
terious Providence ! " 



♦ 



XV. 



REWARD OF CONSECRATION IN TIME AND 
ETERNITY. 

" Whosoever will save his life shall lose it ; and whosoever will lose 
his life for my sake shall find it." — Matt. xvi. 25. 

It is in powerful illustration of the original de- 
pravity and actual corruption of human nature, 
that this grand utterance of Christ, which epito- 
mizes, in a single sentence, the whole law of God 
and the whole philosophy of life, should be, in form 
and seeming, a paradox. The simple fact that it 
so strikes us, is in positive proof that, in our habits 
of living we are opposed to that law, and in our 
modes of thinking, strangers to that philosophy. 
And if this be true, how sad the reflection that our 
whole lives have been one vast mistake ! Having 
built them on a false and unsubstantial foundation, 
it should no longer surprise us that they fall in 
ruins upon our heads. Then, too, all the mystery 
of Providence ceases ; all the marvel of our great 
losses, trials, and afflictions vanishes; for we are 
wrong, and Heaven would set us right ; and these 
are the discipline by which, in love, a Divine 
Father would open our blinded eyes to the true 
light, and attract our wandering feet to the true 
path. The propositions contained in the text seem 
to be essentially these : That whoever devotes his 



208 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



life to self-aggrandizement, shall miss the end for 
which he strives ; and whoever, for Christ's sake, 
dedicates his life to the welfare of others, shall se- 
cure his own ; in other words, the great principles 
of selfishness and benevolence are here contrasted, 
in their effects upon human and individual welfare. 

Let us test the soundness of these propositions 
by applying them, first, to the problem of temporal 
prosperity; and this involves money, social posi- 
tion, health, and safety. With regard to money 
■flie question is whether selfish avarice or Christian 
generosity be the surer road to fortune ? and, on 
this point, let the testimony of God be heard first. 
He says, " There is that scattereth, and yet in- 
creaseth ; and there is that withholdeth more than 
is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." " The liberal 
soul shall be made fat." " Give, and it shall be 
given unto you ; good measure, pressed down, and 
shaken together, and running over, shall men give 
into your bosom." " It is more blessed to give than 
to receive." " He that hath pity upon the poor, 
lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath 
given will He pay him again." These words of the 
Most High, uttered in the ear of the world during 
hundreds and thousands of years, have not been 
spoken quite in vain. They have won their way 
by slow degrees to the confidence of men. Most 
people believe them in part, and act correspond- 
ingly ; being more or less liberal, according to the 
measure of their faith in the profitableness of lib- 
erality, as a policy. Very few, however, can be 
found in the whole world, who are ready to take 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 209 

these Divine utterances for the substantial verities 
which they really are, and base their worldly hopes 
upon them, as upon a rock of changeless and per- 
petual truth. Yet, if we could gather up, and ad- 
just, and estimate fairly, the results of all our ob- 
servation and experience, a vast preponderance of 
evidence would perhaps be found on the side of 
God's word. We have all noticed the different 
and contrasting effects, upon ourselves, of the lib- 
eral and avaricious types of character in others. 
The former we admired, loved, sought, aided, by 
all the means in our power. If such a man was in 
business, we dealt with him ; if in trouble, we were 
glad to lend him a helping hand. The opposite 
character, we disliked and shunned. We gave him 
no patronage, lent him no assistance. If he were 
in trouble, we thought, " let him help himself out 
of it. He would help no one ; he lived for him- 
self ; let him fail and fall ; he deserves it." Now, 
in. this respect if in no other, our hearts are the 
microcosm in which we may see the world in min- 
iature. Other men think and feel, on these sub- 
jects, very much as we do ; and thus we evolve, 
from the simplest reasoning, the great practical 
truth that, as a mere matter of worldly policy, 
Christian liberality is the surest road to prosper- 
ity ; that the only money which can be effectually 
secured, is that which one gives away to a worthy 
charity ; that while everything else may be wrecked 
and lost, this is an investment which will yield him 
sure returns. We may not be able to trace the 
hidden path of those returns ; it leads through a 
14 



210 



REWARD OF CONSECRATION" 



thousand vicissitudes of fortune, which only the 
eye of God can follow. The beggar, whom ten 
years ago we relieved and forgot, is to-day in inde- 
pendent circumstances ; and he has not forgotten, 
but is waiting and watcliing for opportunities to 
return, in a thousand forms and ten thousand fold, 
that obligation whose existence we do not suspect. 
And so of many others ; we cannot see and under- 
stand these processes ; but God's own signet is on 
the bond which secures the pecuniary return of 
every real charity. It is not — it cannot be — 
lost. There is something in the grasp of avarice, 
too hard and close to retain, in the highest measure, 
anything so fine, fleeting, and subtile as pecuniary 
prosperity. I remember, when a boy, asking a 
liberal and wealthy gentleman — whose large char- 
ities were the talk of the neighborhood where he 
lived — how he could give away so much money, 
and still, as it seemed, be growing richer every day. 
We were standing together, when I asked the ques- 
tion, in one of his immense barns. He replied, " I 
will show you ; " and stooping to a bin, filled his 
hand with some very fine grass seed. It lay upon 
his open palm in a little heap. " Look," said he, 
" that is the open hand ; you see how much it 
holds. Now look again ! " — then closing his hand, 
which caused nearly all the seed to trickle through 
his fingers and escape — " that is the closed fist ! " 
I have never forgotten that lesson ; it was a reve- 
lation to me. It is true that a miser may accumu- 
late much gold ; but he misses the great end of his 
wealth, and is poorer than poverty in the midst of 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



211 



plenty ; while, in reality, his paltry savings are as 
nothing in comparison with the princely affluence of 
the man whose charities are boundless as his life. 

But temporal prosperity includes social position ; 
and this point needs no more than to be named, 
in order to convince every one that the advantage 
is altogether on the side of the generous man. 
There is perhaps no virtue which so surely and en- 
tirely wins all hearts. Even those who cannot 
emulate, will not fail to praise ; while the mean 
and avaricious citizen earns the scarce-concealed 
contempt of his very kindred and dependents, and 
becomes, to the multitude, a by-word for all that 
is base and groveling. So thoroughly, indeed, are 
men's convictions in harmony with Divine truth, 
on this point, that many utterly destitute of sym- 
pathy for a good object, will yet contribute liber- 
ally to it, for the sake of their standing and repu- 
tation in the community. And they might save 
themselves this trouble and spare their souls the 
sin of this hypocritical homage to virtue^ for their 
policy deceives hardly anybody. The truth is, self- 
ishness can put on no successful disguise. The 
fangs of the wolf are discerned, by all save a few 
silly ones, through the inevitable breaks in the 
fleecy covering. Such a man puts on the appear- 
ance of generosity, in order to secure for himself 
and his family a high social position. His object 
is not to deserve it, but to obtain it. And this vul- 
gar aim for place becomes the darling ambition of 
his soul. This is his development of selfishness. 
Indeed, there is scarcely any sacrifice which he will 



212 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



withhold from this idol. And all in yain ; for he 
can never compass his design. He may seem to 
rise, become wealthy, hold office ; he is merely the 
frog in the fable. No really discerning eye takes 
"him for other than he is. As those new to fortune 
put on finery, gold, jewels, in order to ape their 
superiors, and strut and plume themselves, and 
vainly fancy they are admired, while they are sim- 
ply contemned, — so the man who devotes his life 
to his own social advancement, though he may 
seem to succeed and win the suffrages of many as 
vulgar as himself, in fact fails always; and is 
known, by those really high in social position, for 
what he is — a vain, conceited, and ambitious par- 
venu. 

So, on the other hand, one taught in the school 
of Christ to prefer others before himself, and con- 
forming his social life to this principle; seeking 
never his own advancement, but aiding all others 
as he has opportunity; striving to deserve all 
honor, but to win none ; aiming to be all that is 
pure, noble, and generous, and to seem nothing 
that he is not, may succeed in life ; rise to 
wealth, rank, and honor ; become his high place, 
and pass away amid the praises and regrets of 
men ; simply because he knew that "it is more 
blessed to give than to receive," and built his life 
on this knowledge. We appeal again to conscious- 
ness. It is to such a man we readily concede the 
honor which he will never claim. We perceive, in 
his character, what seems to us an innate noble- 
ness — but which, in reality, is an engrafted vir- 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



213 



trie — which entitles him, in our esteem, to all the 
respect and influence which our suffrages can be- 
stow ; and these we delight to heap upon him. 
Other men are but copies of ourselves, in this feel- 
ing ; and the result is, the words of Christ are sus- 
tained : 44 Whosoever will save his life shall lose it ; 
and whosoever will lose his life, for my sake, shall 
find it." 

We come now to a point, in the application of 
these principles to the temporal prosperity of men, 
in which the discovery and manifestation of the 
truth may be more difficult : namely, health and 
safety; or man's physical well-being. How this 
may be affected, injuriously or beneficially, by his 
principles, is more difficult to show ; not because it 
is less true, but because the relations on which it 
depends are more subtile, and more easily elude the 
mental grasp of a weak or clumsy thinker. Such 
a man loses the thread of argument at every turn, 
and can never find it again ; or stops and stumbles 
at a thousand fancied inconsistencies, where a 
clearer eye and a surer foot ivould find the safest 
and smoothest path. He cannot see how a man's 
religious principles can affect his health or safety. 
Is not health a mere matter of physical organism, 
governed by laws which have no relation to the 
spiritual world ? And is not safety in the hands 
of blind accident, or a law so utterly beyond our 
perception and influence that we term its results 
fortuities ? And yet this same man has been made 
ill by anger ; has been prostrated by despondency ; 
has been raised up and reanimated by hope ; and 



214 



REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



now is startled by the proposition that his relig- 
ious principles have anything to do with his health ! 
He has forgotten that there subsists, between God's 
organic law in man's physical system and his stat- 
utory code in revelation, a vital connection, as well 
as an essential harmony ; that he who transgresses 
the one, violates also, and always, and of conse- 
quence the other. 

It only remains to resolve this whole matter into 
two plain questions ; to which, if we can obtain 
satisfactory answers, we shall be able to see the 
entire subject in a clear light, and reach conclu- 
sions which will become convictions. These ques- 
tions are, first, Does there exist a close and inti- 
mate connection between man's mental states and 
his physical health ? To this question, all reason, 
experience, and science, give an unqualified and 
affirmative response. We need stop neither to ar- 
gue nor illustrate. Then, in the second place, Is 
selfishness or benevolence, when operating as a con- 
trolling principle hi the heart and life, more favor- 
able to physical health ? Of this question Jesus 
Christ, in the text, assumes the affirmative ; and 
we follow in his sacred footsteps ; not blindly, 
though we might, even thus, safely follow Him ; 
but seeing, also, that the whole path is lighted by 
clear and unprejudiced reason. Selfishness antag- 
onizes us with all the world. All men are our 
rivals, competitors, enemies ; because they seek to 
possess themselves of the objects which we desire 
to make our own. Envy, covetousness, impatience, 
fretfulness, resentment, anger, hatred, revenge, 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



215 



make their home in the heart of the selfish man. 
Corroding and harrowing disappointments are the 
harvest of his life ; a deadly and poisonous prod- 
uce, which cannot fail to sap the vital powers, 
and render the man a physical wreck. On the 
other hand, benevolence is the Divine mode of love. 
All gentle, kindly, and generous emotions reside 
in that man's breast who is governed by this prin- 
ciple. These are his inspiration to all diligence, 
and his comfort and support under life's heaviest 
burdens. They strengthen his weary limbs, and 
refresh his exhausted powers. They diffuse the 
glow and energy of a spiritual lif e through all his 
physical system. They multiply, by many times, 
its capacity and force. If you remind me that self- 
ishness has its quickening inspiration, as well, and 
point me to Alexander, Caesar, and Bonaparte, as 
sublime examples, I reply, that the energies of 
selfish ambition are feebler to animate and stronger 
to destroy ; and point you to Paul, and Luther, and 
Whitefield, and Wesley. Ay, to Wesley ! the man 
to whose great loving soul, the weight of a thou- 
sand benevolent cares seemed no greater than, to 
his head, the weight of a thousand hairs ! Ay, 
come with me to his death-bed, and see him with 
the burden of more than fourscore years upon his 
frame, calmly, in the sweet consciousness of a soul 
at peace with God, yield his spirit to the hands of 
his Maker ! Hear him lift up his princely voice, 
in the jubilant tones of a younger manhood, and 
exclaim — while to the eyes of the weeping wit- 
nesses the waiting chariots of the skies seem almost 



216 



REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



in open sight — hear him shout, with his last ex- 
piring breath, " The best of all is God is with us ! " 
and thence go, if you can, to the Greek, dying from 
the effects of his debauch ; to the Roman, stabbed 
in the senate chamber by his friend; to the 
chained Exile of Elba, feeding his fierce fancies 
on his own wild heart ; and worship, instead of 
the God of Love, that demon of selfishness on 
whose altar were immolated these splendid lives. 

Something of what we have just said, applies 
with quite as much force to safety as to health. 
Selfishness antagonizes, while benevolence concil- 
iates, all surrounding influences. If security from 
violence depends at all upon the agency of other 
men — and all will admit that it does so depend 
very largely — then, by just so much at least, it 
must be conceded benevolence is superior to self- 
ishness, as a ruling principle, with reference to 
that end. And in so far as safety depends upon 
accident and chance, are not these God's own pe- 
culiar sphere and store ? — held sternly in reserve 
from human calculation, for the avowed purpose of 
drawing thence, from time to time, such temporal 
sanctions of his spiritual laws, as may awaken re- 
morse in the hardest and rouse fear in the boldest ? 
And how, in all reason, should these resources, 
drawn from that realm of fortuity over which God 
immediately presides, be applied in the government 
of the world ? Certainly, to bless the good : as 
certainly, to warn the wicked. And this principle 
arrays, on the side of the safety of the all-loving 
and purely consecrated Christian, all the chances 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



217 



of his life ; and against the safety of the selfishly 
impenitent man, all the chances of his life. Es- 
timate, if you can, this immense difference, and 
then add to it the natural effect of all the enmities 
which selfishness provokes and benevolence dis- 
arms ; and then say, if the grand total does not, 
even with reference to man's physical safety, jus- 
tify the words of Christ : " Whosoever will save 
his life shall lose it ; and whosoever ' will lose his 
life for My sake shall find it." 

Thus far we have explained and enforced these 
words with especial reference to temporal prosper- 
ity, including property, social position, health, and 
safety. We have laid down (and we hope estab- 
lished) the doctrine that, even with reference to 
material good alone, — supposing this were the 
great and only end of man's being, — were he even 
destitute of an exalted spiritual nature and of an 
immortal destiny, — still, benevolence, as the rul- 
ing principle of his life, would be found superior 
to selfishness, because conducing more directly and 
effectively to build up his fortune, secure to him 
the respect and affection of others, and conserve 
his physical well-being. 

Now, we desire you to consider the same great 
morally antagonistic principles of selfishness and 
benevolence, with reference to their effect on man 
as a spiritual being. And first, with regard to his 
intellectual nature : plainly, all his mental culture 
may spring from selfish or benevolent motives ; he 
may intend to accomplish by it either his own wel- 
fare or the welfare of others ; and the simple ques- 



218 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



tion is, which one of these two motives will more 
dignify, ennoble, expand, quicken, and strengthen 
his intellectual powers ? Whether of these two 
moral forces, as a motive power, will push the in- 
tellect to higher conquests ? 

We might pause here to remark that, a priori, 
the advantage must be on the side of benevolence, 
or a logical consequence little short of blasphe- 
mous will ensue ; for, since it is conceded that 
man's intellectual advancement, other things be- 
ing equal, is also man's exaltation and glory ; and 
since God has recommended benevolence and con- 
demned selfishness, — then, if benevolence be not 
the more powerful motive, it follows, by necessary 
sequence, that the divine Creator seeks by his law 
to degrade intead of elevate his human creatures. 

But aside from this iron logic, which binds us to 
assent or blaspheme, we have elsewhere and every- 
where the most gentle, persuasive, and yet pow- 
erful encouragements to accept the truth. The 
man — lawyer, physician, merchant, mechanic, or 
farmer — who adopts the hard rule of incessant 
and absorbing application to business, as the means, 
we will suppose, of professional eminence, — allow- 
ing, for the sake of argument, this to be the grand 
object of his selfish efforts, — has, on mere grounds 
of policy, it is easy to show, committed a capital 
error. The long, dead-level strain upon his facul- 
ties weakens their tension and impairs their capac- 
ity. It' is as if a weight, equal to his utmost 
strength, were suspended upon his arm and never 
removed. The physical effect, in the one case, is 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



219 



analogous to the mental in the other. A species 
of intellectual paralysis ensues. The mind dwarfs, 
dwindles, shrinks, decays. Being of finer texture 
and hardier qualities than the body, it will longer 
sustain the unnatural pressure ; but the result, 
though more slowly reached, is the same. As, in 
the case supposed, the limb might for some time 
retain a muscular, sluggish, and insulated life after 
it had ceased to be useful in the wider functions of 
the animal economy ; so the mind, wholly immersed 
in a secular profession, may continue to give evi- 
dences of a selfish and technical activity long after 
it is lost to society, to God, and to the great pur- 
pose of its own cultivation. But as there can be 
no doubt that the limb, if freed from the incessant 
pressure of its unnatural burden, and suffered to 
return to it only for occasional and stated inter- 
vals, while at other times it should be relaxed, 
resting, or engaged in a thousand varying toils and 
sports, would gain a finer and healthier develop- 
ment, and added strength for its especial task, — 
so there can be as little doubt that the mind, un- 
chained from its professional oar, at regular and 
stated times dictated by Conscience and Duty, and 
suffered to disport itself in the sweet and chaste 
pleasures of society ; to wander, at its own wanton 
will, in the flowery fields of literature ; to kindle 
and replenish its wasted fires at the altars of God's 
house ; and, above all, to try its strength in a thou- 
sand beneficent essays for the relief of human suf- 
fering and the rescue of degraded souls, — would 
not only reach a higher and grander development 



220 



REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



under the power of these fine stimuli, but would 
return to its peculiar and secular vocation with a 
freshness, warmth, and glow which would render 
the heaviest burdens of business mere feather- 
weights to its agile strength, and increase by many 
fold its pure professional efficiency. 

The selfish devotee of business is a mere intel- 
lectual automaton, strung on the wires of routine, 
and moved by the springs of habit ; and so he acts 
his mechanical part till the machinery of life wears 
out and falls to pieces, and there is an end of the 
silly show. Such a man is a lonely cipher in so- 
ciety while he lives ; it requires the significant nu- 
meral of beneficence to bring out his possible value, 
and render him a factor in the grand multiple of 
human good. Beyond the ranks of his professional 
brethren, and those attracted to him by their need 
of his professional services, he exerts no influence, 
wields no power. Other men neither know nor 
care whether he lives or dies. And there is no 
good reason why they should care ; for he never 
appears in society save under stress of circum- 
stances ; and then he " talks shop " at his neigh- 
bor's dinner-table or his own ; not because it is 
vulgar, but because he has nothing else to talk. 
And this shriveled skeleton of intellect is all that 
remains of what might have been a princely mind ; 
and needed but the fires of benevolence glowing at 
the heart, to have quickened it to put on and wear 
forever all its regal honors ! So true are the words 
of Christ : " Whosoever will save his life, shall 
lose it ; and whosoever will lose his life for My 
sake shall find it." 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



221 



But a still sadder exhibition of the effects of 
selfishness may be seen in the domain of the pas- 
sions. Here, in accordance with the obvious de- 
sign of the Creator, all should be love, good-mil, 
peace, joy, and bliss. In the family, the husband 
and wife, parents and children, brothers and sisters, 
should find their happiness in contributing to the 
comfort and convenience, peace and joy, each of all 
the others. The language of love should be the 
only tongue ever spoken ; the tones of affection the 
only sounds ever heard. All gentleness, kindliness, 
and tenderness should gather and abide as guardian 
spirits, around the hearth of home. The earthly 
home should be the nursery of heaven, and almost 
heavenly, in the celestial tempers of its inmates. 
■ Society should serve but to extend and keep aglow, 
and kindle to higher and purer power, the same 
gentle and kindly flame. The door of home should 
be opened only to let the love-light shine out upon 
the world. Its occupants should go forth burdened 
only with benisons, and return freighted with 
that pure joy revealed in the words of the holy 
Christ : -" It is more blessed to give than to re- 
ceive." Hand should meet hand with the warm 
and cordial clasp of friendship, and both grow 
wealthier with every greeting. The stranger should 
be welcomed and prized as the future friend. 
Wherever soul touches soul, heart should embrace 
heart, and both be enriched by the kindly com- 
merce. Art should be the magic dome where Af- 
fection sunned herself in beauty, and wore its glo- 
rious light forever. Science — wild steed of God, 



222 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 

roaming the pathless pastures of the universe — > 
should be caught by gentle hands, and tamed and 
harnessed to the car of human progress, and draw 
the whole world heavenward. Government, re- 
garding only the happiness of the governed, and 
pillared upon loving hearts, would be stable as the 
serene stars, and, like them, reflect the brightness 
of the supreme Light ; and easy, henceforth, would 
lie the head that wore its crown. Nations would 
level the barriers between their peoples, and bind 
all shores together with electric cables, and bridge 
with their friendly commerce the pathless wastes 
of ocean, whose wild and stormy heart should itself 
own the magnetic influence of love, and gently 
bear to its destined haven every peaceful prow. 
Earth — Earth ! would be " Paradise Regained." 

But " soft ! we did but dream ! " Look how the 
dark devil of Selfishness mars the fair scene !" 
Domestic discord, wrangling, hatred, infidelity, 
divorce ! Social enstrangement, indifference, jeal- 
ousy, envy, rivalry, revenge, murder ! In business, 
covetousness, avarice, indirection, chicane, dishon- 
esty, fraud, theft, robbery, extortion, and oppres- 
sion ! Art, the vile mistress of human pollution ! 
Science — wild steed of God, caught by ungentle 
hands and but half -tamed — impatient, fretful, 
and maddened by his fiery master, hurling hun- 
dreds to destruction in a moment ! Government, 
a synonym for oppression and wrong ! Nation, 
" breathing out threatening and slaughter " against 
nation ! The whole world dragged, by the mighty 
fiend of Selfishness, almost within the open jaws of 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



223 



hell ; and only held back, for a little while, by the 
pitying Grace of God ! This is what we see. 
Alas, that men should have forgotten the wisdom 
of God! which teaches them that "he that will 
have friends, must show himself friendly." It is 
with the heart, as with everything else in this 
world : to give, is to increase ; to withhold, is to 
shrink, shrivel, decay. But the narrow policy of 
selfishness so far prevails, and its maxims have 
won such social currency, that perhaps it may 
fairly be doubted whether, among all the thou- 
sands who make up the population of this city, 
there can be found many persons of either sex, 
who, in any high and disinterested sense, may be 
termed friends. Familiar acquaintances and social 
intimacies, there are a great many ; but these are 
for politic and selfish purposes ; and are but dis- 
tantly, if at all, related to the more exalted and 
refined sentiment, of which they are at once the 
wretched substitute and the mocking travesty. 
And yet, true, tender, loyal, firm, and unwavering 
friendship — that cannot change, nor forget, nor 
grow cold, but waxes, like a golden chain, ever 
warmer and brighter under the attrition of years 
and troubles — is capable of kindling in the heart 
joys akin to those of heaven; and of constituting 
to the whole life a source of pure and powerful in- 
spirations. All this is forever lost to the man who 
shuts his selfish sympathies at home, and is always 
afraid lest he should think more of others than 
they think of him. One who wore it long, and 
tested it thoroughly, said of that jealous suspicion, 



224 EEWARD OF CONSECRATION 

which is but another name for selfishness, it " is a 
heavy armor, which, by its own weight, impedes 
more than it protects." Alas ! the life, still more 
than the death, of this wretched man though great 
poet, attests the truth of his own words ; a truth 
whose echoes are distinctly heard in the mournful 
cadences of the last song, which shook the chords 
of his wild harp, when, full of riches, honors, rank, 
he laid him down to die in the noontide of man- 
hood, amid " those isles of Greece " of which he 
had sung so sweetly in his earlier years : — 

"My days are in the yellow leaf ; 
The flowers and fruits of love are gone : 
The worm, the canker, and the grief, 
Are mine alone." 

Let the heart out in love, and its pulses will thrill 
the whole social world around you, and bring home 
to you jewels of affection, which will lend a sweeter 
and brighter radiance, even to the glorious light of 
the heavenly paradise; keep it in, and it will 
shrivel and harden to a fossil, to be picked up by 
any coarse and clumsy devil that crosses its track, 
and borne to the archives of hell ; there to wake 
the wild mirth and rouse the ceaseless wonder of 
its fiendish denizens. So true again, even with 
reference to the commerce of the affections, are 
the words of Christ : " Whosoever will save his 
life shall lose it ; and whosoever will lose his life 
for My sake shall find it." 

But the saddest of all the earthly effects of sel- 
fishness may be seen in the realm of the moral 
sense. Here, Conscience is corrupted and bribed, 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 225 

and Veneration drugged and debased. Intoler- 
ance, exalted by its patron devil to a throne, erects 
the splendid temples of its Christianized super- 
stition, and commands all men to worship at its 
altars on pain of temporal loss and everlasting 
death. The purest forms of Christian worship 
are become so murky with the foul hell-breath of 
bigotry, that honest men can hardly any longer 
look through them up to God. Sect is fighting 
against sect, and denomination making war on de- 
nomination ; while here and there may be found 
an organization calling itself catholic and Christian 
by eminence, and yet claiming for its order a 
monopoly of the whole roadway to heaven. In- 
testine dissension, discord, division, are breaking 
the already numerous sects into still smaller and 
more contemptible fractions ; while each, in its 
turn, puts on its armor of selfish exclusiveness, and 
lays its puny lance in rest against all the others. 
In single congregations even, parties divided on a 
thousand indifferent and non-essential issues, are 
arrayed against each other, and squabble and quar- 
rel, and vie with the devil that inspires them, in 
the malignity of their mutual opposition. If we 
descend to individuals, the scene is still more dis- 
graceful. Heaven's royal Champion — his "gar- 
ments rolled in blood," in that dark contest with 
Death and hell from which He has just returned 
triumphant, and moving to the conquest of the 
universe — passes once through the streets of thi& 
world, and scatters largess to the wretched crowd 
who throng the footsteps of his purple steed: 

15 



226 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



not gold and gems, but crowns and thrones, and 
titles to everlasting bliss — enough for all earth's 
millions ; and while the many scorn the bounty 
of a God, the few seize eagerly and hide, where 
none can see it, what they fancy is a sure title 
to heaven ; forgetting — poor, silly, selfish souls — 
that the token of Christ's bounty is light, which 
" cannot be hid ; " and that, when they come to 
die, and search in the soul's casket — where they 
think that they have placed it safely — for the 
imagined treasure, it will be found that nothing is 
there. It is something past all marvel, to behold 
and mark the wonders of this selfishness in mat- 
ters of religion. A father has found, as he hopes 
and believes, the " pearl of price ; " and he hides 
it away, where his daughter whom he loves, can- 
not see it, and be led by the sight to seek that 
other pearl which heaven's Lord let fall for her. 
The mother hides it, like a guilty secret, from her 
son ! Husband from wife, and wife from husband ! 
Hearts so tender and devoted, that they keep back 
from each other nothing else, make a secret of 
their religion ! Wonder of wonders ! They are 
ashamed to show it ! True, it was not so, per- 
chance, when they first found it : they so rejoiced 
— they were so glad and happy then — that its 
sweet and holy light shone all around them ; and 
others looking on them said, " I too will seek the 
'pearl of price.' " They had forgotten to be sel- 
fish, then ! But soon the banished devil came 
again to their hearts, and found them "empty, 
swept, garnished," and unguarded by the angel of 



IX TIME AND ETERNITY. 



227 



Benevolence ; and u taking seven other devils, 
worse than himself, he has entered in and dwelt 
there," misnspected and nnf eared ; and he is there 
to-day ! And the silly owner, who dreams that an 
angel keeps the place, will find himself, when he 
comes to die, in the clutches of the manifest and 
all-powerful fiend ! So true, again, even in mat- 
ters of religion, are the words of Christ that 
" Whosoever will save his life shall lose it ; and 
whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find 
it." • 

Hitherto, we have interpreted these words as 
setting in order, contrasting and comparing, the 
great moral principles of selfishness and benevo- 
lence, as motive powers, with reference to their 
effect on the whole question of human welfare. 
In the first place, we tried the soundness of the 
proposition that benevolence is the more powerful 
and profitable motive, with exclusive reference to 
the question of man's material and temporal wel- 
fare ; and found the words of Christ sustained by 
history, reason, and experience. Again, we have 
regarded man as a spiritual being, and found the 
truth of the Saviour's words still more strongly 
evidenced. In conclusion, we desire to illustrate 
the effect of the same principles of selfishness and 
benevolence, considered as rules of life, on man as 
an immortal being. 

The proposition which we now lay down is, in 
harmony with the text, a seeming paradox : that 
selfishness, as the governing motive of man's exist- 
ence in this world, will lead to the eternal loss of 



228 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



all that it seeks ; while benevolence will lead to 
the eternal gain of all that it fails to seek. We 
would make the soundness of this proposition 
plainly evident to all minds, by some simple and 
easy reflections, which may be level to the com- 
monest understanding, while, at the same time, 
in point of simple correctness, they may challenge 
the criticism of the highest and most cultivated. 

First, then, with regard to property : from the 
miser to the mean and close man of business, and 
from the avaricious business man to the most seem- 
ingly but politically generous of all in the ranks of 
trade ; each will meet with a pecuniary success, 
proportioned to the liberality of his principles. 
The miser will accumulate and gloat over his petty 
hoards; the merely stingy, and by consequence 
somewhat broader-minded man, will succeed more 
largely ; while he of comparatively generous im- 
pulses and liberal policy, will distance both the 
others in the race of pecuniary acquisition. This 
is the law of temporal success, which bestows, 
with perfect discrimination, its rewards according 
to the infinitely varying merits of men : this is the 
great law of sequence, between seeking and find- 
ing. Each man's pure pecuniary success is pro- 
portioned to his freedom from the degrading vice 
of money-meanness. But there comes, after death, 
• a final settlement of the accounts of life ; in which 
selfishness, in all its forms, loses whatever it 
seemed to have gained. The dying miser clings 
in vain to his golden god. The fleshly grasp may 
endure, even after death ; and stranger-hands may 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



229 



find it hard work to unclasp the cold fingers and 
rob the dead; but the miser's spirit scorns even 
its own clay ; and leaving the useless treasure in 
the ice-cold clutch, departs, at the bidding of its 
God, to the retributions of eternity. Respectable 
Avarice, who built his splendid home, and dwelt 
there in comfort and luxury, and forgot the beg- 
gar at his gates, must abandon all his selfish ele- 
gancies to the squabbles of greedy kindred, and 
join hands with Dives, in hell, to swell the chorus 
of the soul's poverty, in shrieks for one drop of 
that " water of life " which flowed at his feet un- 
sought and untasted, in time. Even the politic 
and princely Affluence, who scattered his super- 
fluities on every hand, to gratify his own vanity 
and enlarge his success, must not only leave his 
magnificent revenues to others, but will find him- 
self bereft of the immortal profit even of his seem- 
ing charities ; for the eye of Omniscience, looking 
deep into his selfish heart, will read all its secrets, 
and the Divine voice will say, " Thou didst it not 
for the sake of the poor, nor for My sake, but 
for thine own glory and good. Thou hast had all 
thy reward. Depart, to the deep and inexorable 
hell of the crafty, who simulated virtue on earth, 
and wore the livery of goodness to deceive ! " 

So, the men whose development of selfish crav- 
ing takes the form commonly known as ambition ;• 
whose energies are devoted to a life-long struggle 
for power and place, will succeed in the darling 
object of their hopes in a proportion accurately 
exact to the enlargement and liberality of their 



230 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 

policy ; for this, we repeat, is the law of temporal 
success in all its departments. Some of them will 
win a mere local and petty elevation ; will be the 
little-great men of the country town, village, or 
neighborhood. Others will build on a broader 
foundation, and rise to provincial fame and in- 
fluence. Still others will achieve national impor- 
tance, and hold the helm or wear the crown of 
government. And a few will write their heroic 
names in characters so large and high that the 
farthest and dullest eye can read them. But again 
Death comes, and strips the little-great man of his 
petty importance, and sends him to serve in hell ; 
strips the larger great man of his rank and honors, 
and allots him to a dreary preeminence of pain ; 
strips the purple robe and golden crown from the 
tyrant, and consigns him to a gloomy, clankless, 
and eternal chain ; tears from the hero's brow the 
blood-besprinkled laurel, and condemns him to look 
up forever to the wrath-cloud firmament of hell, 
and receive on his naked and defenseless head, the 
sulphurous rain of Divine judgment. 

So, too, as we demonstrated before, whatever of 
health and safety the selfish man may enjoy in 
this world, other things being equal, will be pro- 
portioned to his freedom from the corroding and 
dangerous dominion of selfish passions ; a soul in- 
tensely selfish frets itself to death in a few years, 
or makes an enemy, who destroys it in a day ; 
another, less selfish, wears out more years, and re- 
ceives fewer and less deadly harms, while the 
comparatively liberal and philosophical mind ex- 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



231 



erts a sanitary influence over the whole realm of 
temporal welfare. But still again Death comes, 
and condemns the whole physical man to immor- 
tal disease, pain, peril, torment, and torture ; the 
sole difference which we are able to conceive in 
this regard between the mortal and immortal or- 
ganisms being, that the latter must be indefinitely 
more susceptible to painful influences, and abso- 
lutely incapable of reaching the insensibility of 
death. Behold, then, as the first climax of selfish- 
ness, its devotee in hell ! his treasure lost, his 
worldly honors shriveled by the torture-fires of the 
damned, and his immortal frame, itself an infernal 
harpsichord, over whose quivering strings forever 
wander the burning fingers of fiendish Pain, search- 
ing all its depths for new and wilder notes of an- 
guish to heighten the discords of perdition ! and 
then turn and listen with your heart to the words 
of Christ : " Whosoever will save his life shall 
lose it ; and whosoever will lose his life .for My 
sake shall find it : " and confess that you were 
warned in time. 

But, perchance, there are spiritual treasures, 
which the selfish man may retain, and which may 
soften the lurid colors of this hard picture ! Let 
us see. We have shown before that the selfish 
mind, entirely devoted to business, philosophy, 
art, science, or any other pursuit, becomes, in proc- 
ess of time, a mere technical machine. We have 
a thousand illustrations of this truth around us. 
The mere lawyer sinks deeper and deeper into his 
dusty tomes, and musty parchments, and legal 



232 



REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



saws, and learned quibbles, until the sparks of life 
and of intellect seem to go out together, and no- 
body misses him save his professional brethren. 
The mere physician, whose whole soul is in his 
profession, thinks and talks and writes of nothing 
else, till some fine morning he is sick and cannot 
heal himself, and so dies and is forgotten. The 
mere man of business, who has no time for church, 
nor for society, nor for anything else but business, 
perishes miserably at last under the burden of his 
ledgers, — crushed to death by his own accounts ! 
The mind of the woman of fashion is poisoned by 
her gewgaws, and the deadly virus sends her to 
an early and dishonored grave ; and her husband 
does not feel that he is widowed ! her children do 
not realize that they have lost a mother ! But 
again, to all these, Death comes. And what shall 
the mere lawyer do in another world ? himself 
the condemned criminal, with no advocate, and his 
soul's cause in hell's interminable chancery, and 
his cobweb sophistries consumed by the fiery- 
breath of present and unceasing agony ? What 
shall the mere doctor do in that grim world where 
Disease is crowned king forever, and whence all 
remedial agencies are banished? where plants of 
healing virtue never bloom, and all whose min- 
erals are on fire ? What shall the mere business 
expert — the pride though he may have been of 
a commercial community — do to lessen his pain 
and mortification, when he finds too late that his 
whole great life-account has been neglected and 
forgotten ? that it is full of deadly and irrepara- 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



233 



ble errors ? that the day of settlement is passed, 
and he is a bankrupt forever ? Or how shall the 
woman of fashion hide in hell the thunder-scars 
of Divine wrath, which will wither her loveliness, 
and substitute the queenly beauty of her brow, 
by the frightful Gorgon of Terror ? 

But the heart! surely the heart has treasures 
which will endure ? What treasures has the heart 
of the selfish man ? If he had a friend on earth, 
it was because he hid from that friend's eye the 
master-devil of his bosom. If a woman ever 
dreamed that she loved him, it was her youthful 
fancy of which she was enamored, and which 
threw its golden glamour over his character. In 
eternity, when God's revealing eye shall lay bare 
his soul, what heart so poor that it will cling to 
him then ? No red, consanguine tie will there sub- 
sist to attach even his own children to his side. 
Even the souls of his infant offspring will start 
back aghast from the manifest devil that glares 
through him. God's universe has not so poor a 
sentient creature, that he may win or purchase 
from it one caress to slake the fiery longing of his 
soul for love. With all that is foul and horrid to 
his sense, with all that is loathsome and hateful 
to his heart, he must lie down in an eternal em- 
brace. 

But the man has done good ! Surely this shall 
abide, and yield him satisfaction even in hell ? He 
has relieved human want and suffering ! He has 
fed the hungry, clothed the naked, given feet to 
the lame, speech to the dumb, ears to the deaf, 



234 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



and sight to the blind ! He has educated the 
orphan, and made the widow's heart to sing for 
joy of his timely bounty ! He has been a most 
efficient and useful member of beneficent associa- 
tions ! He has been complimented, honored, and 
praised for his liberality ! He has generously sup- 
ported the Gospel, Christ's own institution ! He 
may eyen have prayed, and read the Bible, and put 
on all the outward forms of Christianity ! Will all 
this avail him nothing, in the stern trial to which 
he goes ? Alas ! nothing ; according to the words 
of Christ, "he has had his reward." He sought 
the praise of men, and he got it. He had no right 
to expect more. The very good which he did was 
poisoned by his selfish motives, and brought no 
blessing to his own heart. His life is one vast 
loss ! Every material and spiritual accumulation 
is swept away, and he enters naked and empty 
into hell, to be clothed with the flaming wrath of 
God, and fed on eternal torments. Behold him 
there ! every temporal good lost, or turned by 
the alchemy of hell to a fiery and immitigable 
curse ! his gold melted by infernal fires, the lava 
flood that consumes him ! his rank, the measure 
of his agony ! his strength, the immortal resistance 
which gives power and poignancy to pain ! his 
spiritual nature, a noble vessel, broken on the 
dark rocks of perdition, and sunk hi " the lake of 
fire ! " — behold him there ! and then turn and 
listen, with your heart of hearts, to the warning 
words of Christ : " Whosoever will save his life 
shall lose it ; and whosoever will lose his life for 
My sake shall find it." 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



235 



Let us turn now to the consideration of the 
latter member of the proposition: Benevolence 
will lead to the eternal gain of all that it fails to 
seek. A man, we will suppose, for Christ's sake, 
or because he is in sympathy through the con- 
verting grace of God with the great ends of the 
Gospel, dedicates his life to goodness. Preacher 
or layman — it makes no difference — his object 
is the same. Man or woman — it makes no differ- 
ence — their object is the same. Lawyer, physi- 
cian, tradesman, mechanic, farmer, laborer, artist ; 
it is all one — the great object of his life is to 
glorify God in doing good to other men. To this 
one purpose he consecrates all his powers and 
bends all his energies. If he will do this by his 
talent for accumulating money, it is all right ; and 
the first effect will be a pecuniary success larger 
than he could possibly have achieved on any other 
plan of life. All the conditions of success meet 
and are satisfied in the character of such a man. 
Industry, Economy, Liberality — the guardian genii 
who preside over the hidden treasures of this 
world — are the slaves of that magic talisman of 
Benevolence which he carries ever in his bosom ; 
and fast as they fill his hands, he empties them 
again into the lap of pallid and degraded Want. 
The wretched are relieved, the capable encouraged, 
and even the vile reclaimed, through his ever glow- 
ing and insatiate zeal for good. And so, a subor> 
dinate deity — a commissioned providence — he 
walks the highways of this world, scattering beni- 
sons on every hand, and followed by the prayers 



236 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



and tears and blessings of all the needy. But of 
all which he thus scatters abroad, how much shall 
he find again in the lif e to come ? 

In this life, another effect will be his social 
exaltation. He had not thought once of this ; but 
he finds, unexpectedly, that the suffrages of all 
hearts are his own. All the current of men's hon- 
ors sets towards him. According to his capacity, 
he rises to a less or greater height of social emi- 
nence ; but in every instance, higher than he could 
• possibly have climbed on any other scheme of life. 
Of humble abilities, he will be the little-great man 
of his city, town, or neighborhood. Of larger 
powers, his influence will sway added thousands. 
Of regal mind, he will ascend the throne of state, 
assume the purple, control armies, govern millions, 
influence nations, and so fill the souls of men that 
their latest (descendants shall repeat his name. A 
poet, he shall write his epic on the ages, and the 
heavy footsteps of the far centuries shall not erase 
a single line. A follower of science, the curtains 
of the upper deep shall be withdrawn, and he will 
stamp his image on the stars of heaven, and men 
shall think on him as long as they look on them. 
A practical philanthropist, the massy cells of human 
misery shall keep the memory of his angel presence 
while their granite walls endure. But, of all this 
earthly exaltation and glory, how much shall he 
find again in the life to come ? 

Another earthly effect of his benevolent tem- 
per, will be physical health, strength, and safety. 
This, as we have been at some pains to demon- 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



287 



strate, depends always, other things being equal, 
upon the predominance of kindly feelings in the 
heart. These, it is true, cannot overcome consti- 
tutional maladies ; but they can mitigate even 
their force, and will ameliorate their pangs. Nei- 
ther can benevolence assure one against the ef- 
fects of accident and violence ; but, by disarming 
malice, and propitiating the Omnipotent Controller 
of all life's fortuities, they will increase by a great 
number the chances of physical security ; and all 
these chances are, to this man, the angels of the 
special providence of God ; and bring him, in every 
healthful throb of his pulse, and in every hour's 
security from physical evil, new tokens of his 
Heavenly Father's love. But of all this health 
and strength, of all the glad exuberance of physi- 
cal life in its highest and most beautiful forms, 
what part will remain to him in the world of 
spirits ? 

But why linger — why dwell ? why sound, again 
and again, the mournful refrain of Doubt, while 
the live Certainty springs winged and Heaven-sent 
to the heart, like dead Hope, raised from the 
grave of earthly disappointment, and clad in the 
glorious garments of fruition? Ay, he shall save 
all his earthly treasures. Not one shall be lost. 
Even the coarsest and most material shall lose 
nothing save the dross which marred its beauty 
and lessened its value. He has learned from the 
wisdom of Christ how to make to himself friends 
of the mammon of unrighteousness, that when he 
fails on earth, they may receive him to everlasting 



238 REWARD OF CONSECRATION 



habitations. His worldly honors will be exchanged 
for the suffrages of saints and angels, the praise of 
God, and a throne, and crown, and dominion im- 
mortal. His frail fleshly frame will give place to 
that pure vehicle of mind which must inherit all 
the physical joys and powers of heaven. His 
spiritual treasures are so solid and substantial that 
they will bear, without loss, transportation from 
mortal to immortal shores. Every power and 
possession of his intellect, having been consecrated 
to God on earth, shall find a new and grander 
sphere in heaven, where Facility and Efficiency 
shall go hand in hand to the conquest of infi- 
nite knowledge and the development of infinite 
strength. All his jewels of affection, having been 
intrusted to God's keeping on earth, he will find 
them again in heaven ; not rough and unpolished, 
as when he surrendered them here, but bright with 
the touch of infinite Skill, and set in the crown of 
the Eternal. Conscience and Veneration — twin 
guardians of his soul in this world, by whose holy 
light his feet were guided while his worshipping 
vision sought ever the Invisible — freed from the 
infirmities of earth and winged with celestial 
powers, will there conduct him perpetually to new 
and more glorious heights, and unveil to him 
more and more of the perfections of the Infinite 
and the Divine. Forgetful of self here, the pre- 
cious and inalienable possessions of immortality 
shall heap his soul there. Thoughtful for others 
here, the tender hands of angel Gratitude shall 
minister to him forever there. Consecrated to God 



IN TIME AND ETERNITY. 



239 



here, he shall be possessed of God there. All, all 
that he gave out, of temporal or spiritual good on 
earth, he shall find, in infinite and inexpressible 
ratio, and keep forever in heaven ; while all that 
the selfish man gives or withholds, shall be lost in 
this world, and lost in the world to come ; for these 
are the changeless words of Christ : " Whosoever 
will save his life shall lose it ; and whosever will 
lose his life for My sake shall find it." 



XVI. 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 

" Therefore, seeing we have this ministry, as we have received 
mercy, we faint not; but have renounced the hidden things of dishon- 
esty ; not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceit- 
fully; but, by manifestation of the truth, commending ourselves to 
every man's conscience in the sight of God." — 2 Cor. iv. 1, 2. 

To manifest God's truth, to man, is the grand 
business of the preacher. He is God's advocate 
and pleader with the human heart. Technical 
theology may be a profession ; preaching is not. 
It is a Divine office, for which he only is qualified 
who has the unction of the Holy Ghost. All 
mere professions contract and dwarf the man; 
preaching expands him to the utmost capacity of 
his nature. The preacher is par eminence among 
men the lover of humanity. The ruling passion 
of his soul is benevolence. His life has but one 
purpose — to do men good. The meditations of 
his calmest moments, the gathering and glow of 
his loftiest powers, and the agony of his spiritual 
wrestlings, all culminate in the practical question, 
" How shall I save and bless my kind ? " While 
his people think of self, he thinks of them. While 
they scheme and plan for personal aggrandizement, 
in a narrow and temporal sphere, he schemes and 
plans for their larger development and higher 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 241 

destiny. He studies for means of influence and 
pulses of power, that shall hallow and redeem 
them ; that shall elevate, and deepen, and broaden, 
and consecrate their lives. He sees, in every con- 
gregation — he meets, in every pastoral walk — 
men who need but the inspiration of a pure 
and great purpose, to make them first-rate social 
powers. And now they are nothing. The com- 
munity does not feel them ; is not the better for 
their living in it. These he would awake, arouse, 
inform, and render his coadjutors in the redemp- 
tion of the degraded masses. To accomplish all 
this, he has but a single means : by manifestation 
of the truth commending himself to every man's 
conscience in the sight of God. By the corruption 
of the many, and the indifference and selfishness 
of the better few, we may estimate the greatness 
of his task, and form some conception of the cour- 
age and constancy required to enable him to enter 
upon such a work, and prosecute it to the end of 
life. He faints not, because, first, there is com- 
mitted to him, Divinely, a dispensation of the 
Gospel, for which he will be held responsible in 
the day of judgment, and because, secondly, he 
has received mercy. None but the man who has 
escaped a peril, can properly appreciate its immi- 
nency. It was in this spirit that Paul termed 
himself " the chief of sinners," and avowed that 
he only received mercy because he acted igno- 
rantly in unbelief. He saw not, otherwise, how 
God could have pardoned him. The preacher has 
received mercy, feels its magnitude, and trembles 

16 



242 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



lest others should not receive it. The memory of 
his own pardon melts his heart to sympathy with 
all the unpardoned of earth. Who feels for the 
wretch upon the scaffold, like one who has himself 
been there, and was snatched, by executive clem- 
ency, from the very jaws of death? Therefore, 
in discouragement, destitution, and darkness ; in 
affliction, persecution, and death, the true preacher 
of the Gospel, forgetful alike of self and suffering, 
and stirred by the impulse of a boundless and 
quenchless sympathy, continues to address, to 
those who will not heed, exhortation, warning, and 
appeal, till his voice grows husky with the damps 
of death, and sounds as from afar, like the faint 
cries of one borne to a bitter doom. Such a man, 
when he appears to plead the cause of God and 
humanity, stands forth with clean hands and a 
pure heart. He has " renounced the hidden things 
of shame ; " bidden them an eternal farewell. He 
is divorced from Sin, and loathes her very memory. 
No secret guilt corrodes his bosom, and turns his 
public sacrifice into profanation and hypocrisy. 
He cannot walk in craftiness, nor handle the Word 
of God deceitfully. He dares not preach falsely, 
for doctrines, the commandments of men. No 
power can awe, no wealth can buy, no pleasure 
allure his" testimony from the truth. Only by 
manifestation of the truth, will he commend him- 
self to every man's conscience. 

Nor will he preach himself. Worldly ambition 
— the ambition to rise, to shine, to attract and 
dazzle crowds, that he may win a name and 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



243 



reputation as a popular preacher — has no place 
in his heart. Not for the world, in immortal fee, 
would he incur the guilt of decking with the 
flowers of his oratory, and lighting with the glow 
of his eloquence the passage of the human myriads 
down to hell. The voice of popular applause has 
no melody for his ear. He would rather hear the 
publican's cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner." 
He does not wish to hear it said that he has 
preached a fine or great sermon ; or that he is able 
to do this ; or that he is the greatest preacher of 
his town, or city, or neighborhood. But he does 
wish to hear it said that, under the influence of 
his preaching, men repent, sinners are converted 
from the error of their way, the Church is built 
up, and God's great name glorified. No sect — 
no array of sectarian advantages or Church pre- 
ferments — can buy this man. He is not for sale. 
And he belongs to none. He is the property 
of no denomination. His soul is catholic with the 
kiss of God, and scorns a meaner caress. With 
that religious people whose doctrines and usages 
most nearly accord with his own convictions of 
truth and propriety, will he fix his spiritual home ; 
and there, sharing the winter of their adversity as 
calmly as the summer of their prosperity, will he 
live and die, by manifestation of the truth, com- 
mending himself to every man's conscience in the 
sight of God. 

Is there question of the peculiar truth which 
the preacher should manifest? The response is 
broad as the universe : it is literally all truth. 



244 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



Nothing can come amiss to him, in his high voca- 
tion. He, of all men, may safely " intermeddle 
with all knowledge." All history, science, art, 
literature, philosophy; the economy of material 
and practical life ; the mysteries of trade ; the 
theory of all governments and all professions, 
may swell the volume and increase the power of 
his grand and comprehensive common sense. He 
cannot know too much. He cannot manifest too 
much truth. All truth, like all Scripture, is given 
by inspiration of God ; and is profitable for illus- 
tration, u for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, 
for instruction in righteousness." But, while he 
may and should acquire and use all knowledge, in 
furtherance of his ministry — caring nothing for 
the reproofs of narrow and bigoted men who, not 
able themselves, on account of ignorance and men- 
tal barrenness, to invest the Truth with power and 
beauty and bring her crowned and sceptred into 
the presence of the multitude, that they may fall 
down and worship her, would therefore abase all 
presentations of the Gospel to their own dry,, 
technical, and uninteresting standard — still, the 
first great object of his life and labors must be, 
the manifestation of the principles of the Divine 
government, as they are revealed in the Plan of 
Salvation. These principles, albeit they touch, 
in their relations, all men, all spirits, and all 
things, are yet essentially but two : Divine good- 
ness and Divine justice. But the goodness is 
higher than heaven ; the justice deeper than 
hell. And from those far heights and infinite 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



245 



depths, as from all the universe between, must 
the daring and adventurous soul of the preacher 
bring proofs that Divine goodness is expressed in 
mercy and salvation to man, and Divine justice 
finds voice in the condemnation and punishment of 
man ; and that both are vindicated, beyond ques- 
tion or cavil, by the immutable law of right. 

Nor must he fear or shun to scrutinize, with all 
kindly severity, the conduct of men. But, as the 
insight cannot be too sharp, — since men's actions 
must pass a sterner test, - — so the temper cannot be 
too tender and loving ; for the voice of harsh and 
indiscriminate censure cures no faults. While, 
therefore, the preacher must not fail to see and 
expose, with vigilant eye and unsparing hand, the 
inconsistencies and sins of professors of religion 
and the crimes and vices of the world, he should 
deal with both in a spirit of a gentle and sorrow- 
ful kindness, rather than in that of indignant and 
unsympathizing reprehension. 

But especially, he must come to men with light 
for all the dark and intricate problems of practical 
religious life. And to do this, he must have light 
in himself. He must himself have suffered and 
struggled with the dark fiends of despondency ; 
he must himself have doubted and asked wild 
questions at the universe ; he must have held his 
own soul in the torturing fires of intense thought, 
patient of anguish, and defying madness, until, 
from forth the imminent Death, leaped to his res- 
cue the live Safety. 

There is an account, in Croley's " Salathiel," of 



246 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



a company of men, imprisoned in a subterranean 
chamber of one of Herod's palaces, in the centre 
of which, stood a vast, frowning, and inscrutable 
image. Suddenly, a bright and intense flame 
leaped up around this object, and grew every 
moment hotter and fiercer, so that they were 
compelled to retire to the farthest verge of the 
apartment. And now they made the appalling 
discovery that the floor, the walls, the ceiling, 
were all metallic; and that the central fire was 
rapidly heating everything around them, to a de- 
gree which they might not long endure and live. 
A speedy and miserable death seemed inevitable 
to all ; when one, with the mad courage of despair, 
ran and leaped into the central flame ! There 
was a moment's shuddering cry — then silence ; 
and out of the silence a voice — the voice of their 
rash comrade, shouting, " Here is safety — life! 
follow me ! " and all obeyed, and were saved. 
The world is that apartment. Men are the sad 
company who cannot get out of it. The great, 
dim image of moral and spiritual Mystery stands 
in the midst of it. A flame of fierce destruction 
rages around it, and sends its lurid influence to the 
farthest wall ; so that death is imminent every- 
where ; but one man bounds from the throng, 
dares the fiery doom, and finds light and life im- 
mortal where he only looked for death, and shouts 
to the perishing, " Lo here is safety ! peace ! rest ! 
come here ! " That man is the true preacher. 
Life shall furnish forth no dark Mystery," hung 
with the insignia of superstition, and devil-guarded 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



24T 



with fire, through which his daring soul will not 
pierce, that he may speak words of comfort and 
hope to them that are ready to perish. Of Divine 
omniscience and human freedom ; of the dark 
ways of Providence ; of life and death ; of heaven 
and hell, — he shall give you a reason for the 
faith that is in him, that will pour a flood of 
cheerful light upon the gloomy difficulties of every 
candid and able thinker. Deep down into the 
nether darkness will he plunge, and patiently, 
search for Truth among the charred and black- 
ened heaps of the infernal ; through the smoke 
and fumes of the pit ; on to the central regions of 
the lost; where broods the spirit of final desola- 
tion ; where dwell the forms that wear the scars 
of conflict with the Eternal : there, if she sit weep- 
ing and widowed of Joy, will he find, embrace, 
and bring her home to abide with him forever. 
High up into the intolerable light of glory will he 
climb, and search for Truth among the diamond 
hills of the supernal ; through the flash and gor- 
geousness of the celestial city; on to the throne 
of the Supreme ; where reigns the spirit of ever- 
lasting joy; where dwell the eldest-born of 
heaven : there, if she sit throned and crowned, 
and wedded to Rapture, will he find, embrace, and 
bring her to his soul's house, to comfort and abide 
forever with her sad, weeping sister. Far out on 
the verge of the infinite will he stand, and hold- 
ing on by the Cross, lean over the abyss in search 
of Truth ; and catching but a glimpse of her glori- 
ous garments, he will grasp and draw her to him- 



248 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



self, and embrace and hide her in his heart ; and 
there, with her sisters twain, the sad and the happy 
Truth, the infinite Truth shall dwell forever, a 
holy and blessed trinity. And this is that truth, 
by manifestation of which the preacher commends 
himself to every man's conscience. 

For the manner of this manifestation of truth, 
it must be, first, by lucid exposition. No mere 
array of words, figures, and texts will suffice. 
The preacher who has some distinct truth to im- 
part must, in the first place, know what it is him- 
self. He must see it clearly, in all its relations. 
His mind must interpenetrate its essential nature. 
This he must make plain to others. As he ad- 
vances in exposition, he must leave nothing ob- 
scure, and abandon nothing as inexplicable. The 
highest reason in his audience must be satisfied. 
And having first made plain the theory of the 
truth, he must state, with unshrinking boldness, 
its practical application. Let it hurt or condemn 
whomsoever it will, though it be his best friend 
and most ardent supporter, he must fairly and 
distinctly say so : so distinctly that misapprehen- 
sion is impossible. This boldness may startle 
some ; may cost him the esteem and friendship 
of others ; but if he be a true preacher, these 
things will weigh with him just nothing : he will 
pass right on to his great object. And finally, 
gathering up the forces of the truth, as a chief- 
tain in a hard-fought field, resolved on victory or 
death, collects the shattered squadrons of his army, 
ihe hurls them in one resistless and overwhelming 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



249 



charge, upon the hearts and consciences of his 
hearers. Thus he commends himself to every 
man's conscience. 

This self-commendation of the preacher to the 
consciences of his hearers, by the manifestation of 
the truth, is a simple and uniform effect, in conse- 
quence of the natural relation between truth and 
conscience. They are near akin. Truth is God's 
utterance ; and Conscience, uncorrupted, is God's 
angel watcher in man's soul. Corrupted, she 
stands there, it is true, as the Devil's sentinel 
fiend. But in either case she hears and acknowl- 
edges Truth ; because Truth is God's voice, at 
which even the devils tremble. Conscience, hear- 
ing it, rejoices or fears, according as she is pure 
or corrupt. But even in the worst hearts, she is 
not so far fallen — she never can so far fall — as 
not to recognize and feel the truth, when she 
hears it, even if she be not free to consent to it. 
For sometimes, when the banner of Truth is de- 
scried approaching that frowning citadel of sin 
— the depraved and wicked heart of man — and 
Conscience begins to tremble and cry out, she is 
gagged and bound by the master fiend, lest her 
cries and struggles should betray the weakness of 
the place. To comfort and encourage him, then, 
the preacher may feel sure that he has this strong 
ally in every hostile soul. Conscience is of his 
party. She accepts and acknowledges, at once, 
the matter of all presented truth ; its fact, its 
reason, and its right. Besides, her first and 
strongest nature is always in sympathy with the 



250 



CHRIST'S AMBASSADORS. 



spirit of the true preacher. She feels his sincerity, 
throbs and burns responsive to his earnestness, 
and trembles at his power. Thus he commends 
himself to every man's conscience in the sight 
of God. 

"In the sight of God." This is the saddest, 
sweetest, strongest, and most solemn thought in 
in the whole text. How it broadens the theatre 
of the preacher's labors. It is no longer a narrow 
house, a diminutive pulpit and a handful of audi- 
tors. The ceiling is removed, and the walls are 
leveled, at the coming of the Mighty One. In 
the grand hush of the soul's silence, lo, He comes ! 
and in his train are Life, Death, Time, Eternity, 
and all the Infinite ! It is no longer a question of 
you and me. God judges between us, even in 
this primary court of Conscience, and makes up 
the record upon which we shall pass to the final 
awards of the Great Assize. Is my soul pure? 
Is your heart penitent ? This is what He is about 
to write down upon the eternal tablets. Haste 
with your answer ! Take the gag from the mouth 
of Conscience, and let her speak ; and remember 
that God reads it, or ere her bruised and bleed- 
ing lips can syllable the sad response. Thus, by 
manifestation of the truth, we commend ourselves 
to every man's conscience in the sight of God. 



XVII. 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 

" The world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth 
the will of God abideth forever." — 1 John ii. 17. 

Life is truly a mystery. All at once, and with- 
out any previous warning to consciousness, a being, 
both mortal and immortal, finds himself in exist- 
ence, and an actor on the earth. " Where am I ? 
whence came I ? and whither am I bound ? " are 
the questions which spring unbidden to the spirit's 
hp. It were unreasonable, it were cruel, on the 
part of the Almighty to leave his sentient and im- 
mortal creature without an answer to inquiries so 
natural, so irrepressible, as these. Accordingly 
* Revelation, in one form or another, makes answer 
to man that he is in time and on trial for eternity ; 
that he came from the hand of the All-Creator ; 
and that he is destined to judgment, and everlast- 
ing happiness or misery. But a new question 
arises : " What shall I do here ? to what end de- 
vote myself, my powers ? how influence my own 
final and irreversible destiny ? How shall I dis- 
tinguish the false from the true, the seeming from 
the real ? What is not, and what is, a proper ob- 
ject of human devotion ? " Again the Word of God 
responds, in tones weighty and solemn beyond ex- 



252 EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 

pression, " The world passeth away, and the lust 
thereof : but he that doeth the will of God abideth 
forever." 

The world will not do to trust. The world must 
not win thy heart, nor engage thy powers ; for the 
world passeth away. Even the seeming firm foun- 
dations of the earth shall be removed. Behold! 
the Almighty has hung it upon nothing, and itself 
is as unsubstantial as its trust. Its breast is full of 
hollow and deceitful fires. All that it contains of 
durable or beautiful must perish. Have thou no 
confidence in its hard iron, in its enduring brass ; 
for these shall melt with fervent heat. Be not 
dazzled by its silver and gold ; for they shall be 
consumed. Look not upon its precious stones ; for 
these shall be as coal in the furnace of the final 
fires. Earth's caverned treasures perish. They 
are unworthy of thy pursuit. They will deceive 
thy trust. 

Nor dwell upon the brave, bright pomp she 
wears upon her gaudy breast. Her fields are not 
evergreen. Time's frost even withers them. And 
there shall come another, the hoar-frost of the 
ages, the sure precursor of earth's last winter ; and 
all shall feel its blighting power. No more, there- 
after, shall her gaunt and hungry sons search in 
her barren bosom for their daily bread. No more 
shall the treasures of her forests bear, over ocean's 
wave, the rich products of the nations. No more 
shall her millions of busy looms be filled with stuffs 
of a thousand dyes to clothe and adorn her chil- 
dren. Barren as her rocks, she. shall be cursed 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 253 



with, universal dearth, and her guilty sons doomed 
to everlasting famine. Then seek not what earth 
can give. " Labor not for the meat which per- 
isheth." 

Nor deem that the busy tribes of flesh and blood, 
which walk upon her breast and revel in her air, 
and disport themselves in her wide waste of waters, 
shall outlast the flowers that bloom and wither in 
a day. " All flesh is as grass ; and all the glory 
of man as the flower of grass. The grass with- 
ereth, and the flower thereof falleth away." All 
must perish ; all are doomed. The seventh angel 
shall outp'our his vial on the earth. There shall 
be lightnings, and thunderings, and fearful voices, 
and men's hearts failing them for fear. The burn- 
ing wrath of outraged Heaven shall set on fire 
the sea, and its inhabitants shall perish ; shall set 
on fire the air, and the winged dwellers in the blue 
ethereal vault shall die ; shall set on fire the earth, 
and rouse the lion from his lair, and startle the 
tiger from his jungle, and the deer from his leafy 
couch : and these and all, with lordly man, their 
monarch, all, all shall be consumed. The corpse 
of Earth shall be wrapped in a winding-sheet of 
fire, and coffined in the smoke of her own burning ; 
and buried in deep destruction's gloomy vault ; 
while the stars, bright mourners, shall look sadly 
on, and weep at the funeral of a sister world. Then 
seek not the world, for it "passeth away." 

Nor deem that the lust of the world, the desire 
of its temporal good, because its home is in im- 
mortal bosoms, shall outlast its objects. The lust 



254 EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 



of the flesh is the mere accident of earth, and has 
no place even in hell. Woman, condemned, ban- 
ished from purity and good, shorn of her beauty 
and bloom, with the curse of the Eternal upon her 
blackened brow, with the fire of the furies shining 
in her eye, with the foam of eternal madness on 
her lip, and withering under the power of an im- 
mortal death, will awake no passion. Wine and 
strong drink, destitute of their peculiar power to 
elevate and to intoxicate, with the sparkle of 
strength and richness exchanged for the bubble of 
fiery and intolerable heat, and presented in the 
poisoned and burning chalices of the lost, could 
arouse no appetite. Delicate and costly viands, 
could they be prepared by fiendish hands at in- 
fernal fires, and presented reeking with sulphurous 
fumes, would have little power to tempt the pal- 
ate. And even Indolence himself, spreading his 
couch on the red-hot pavements of eternal fire, 
would not long repose. 

Nor shall the lust of the eye survive the com- 
mon wreck. Having for her only covering the 
cloud of Divine wrath, and for her only mirror the 
lake of fire, even Vanity herself will hardly make 
a tedious toilet. Seated in the pall-hung hearse of 
everlasting night, bending over the hideous coffin 
of all hope, for a funeral march to an immortal 
grave, she will care little for the outward splendor 
of her trappings. Housed in the gloomy mansion 
of eternal wretchedness, with hideous sights and 
sounds forever near, she cannot dwell, with much 
of satisfaction, upon the amplitude and magnifi- 
cence of her home. 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 255 

And how shall the pride of life find room or play 
amid the helpless and hopeless ruin of all life ? 
What will titled honors avail, under the eternal 
tyranny of the black prince Diabolus ? Who will 
covet a high place in hell ? where elevation will only, 
serve to reveal to him more sights of suffering, and 
unveil more of the ghastly horrors of his dreadful 
home ? Who will wish for fame ? that he may 
be a lion in hell, and afford a spectacle for gaping 
fiends ? None — none. All will perish ; earth, 
and the passions which belong to earth. " The 
world passeth away, and the lust thereof ; " there- 
fore, seek not the world ; trust not the world ; turn 
from the world, and turn to God. Behold ! I show 
you an object worthy of your heart : " He that 
doeth the will of God abideth forever." 

The will of God is, that man live to glorify his 
Maker. He who builds his life on this scheme 
shall know no failure. He " shall abide forever." 
He shall be immortal in his labors. Even those 
which have, for their apparent ends, pecuniary 
objects, shall not die. He shall make to himself 
friends even of the Mammon of unrighteousness, 
that when he fails on earth, they may stand ready 
to receive him into everlasting habitations. The 
fires which burn upon the hearths of many poor 
shall be kindled by his gold. The plenty on their 
tables, and the garments of comfort which they 
wear, shall be the purchase of his generous bounty. 
And those fires shall kindle a glow of undying 
gratitude in the hearts of the poor ; and the 
strength born of that nourishment shall never 



256 EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 

fail ; and the memory of those garments of comfort 
shall enrobe the spirit in vesture that never waxes 
old ; and all shall abide to the judgment of the 
last Great Day. The money bestowed to develop 
youthful promise into intellectual and moral man- 
hood shall never perish. The means which con- 
stitutes the sinews of every benevolent enterprise 
is not lost. The wealth which has been converted 
into Bibles, and Testaments, and tracts, and waft- 
ed, by the breath of prayer, to far-off heathen 
homes, is immortal. The alchemists, in their 
wild midnight studies, sought a secret not half so 
precious or powerful as this. The good man has a 
gem which outshines the philosopher's stone. It 
will not transmute the baser metals into gold ; but 
it will change base, perishable gold into the im- 
mortal currency of the skies. 

He who does the will of God shall abide in his 
labors for the social amelioration of the condition 
of his kind. He who has taken the drunkard by 
the hand, and, by his hopeful and kindly words, 
inspired him with confidence that he might become 
a man again ; he who has met the gambler on the 
threshold of his earthly type and almost sure pre- 
cursor of an everlasting hell, and, with a brave, 
honest appeal for wife and children, turned his 
feet to home and virtue ; he who has encountered 
poor, modest, and desponding Worth, and with 
high words of hope and courage, won him to look 
up and struggle for the realization of a better des- 
tiny ; he who has flung his heart, and hand, and 
soul, and purse into the beneficent enterprises of 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 257 

his age ; who has held high the banner of social 
progress ; and whose cheery battle-cry of " God 
and Truth ! " has fired the lukewarm, and roused 
the disheartened, and sent dismay into the ranks 
of error ; he whose patriotic purity has shamed 
the political corruptions of his times ; he who has 
thought, and felt, and prayed, and labored for the 
world's good ; whose broad sympathies have em- 
braced the race, and stirred the sluggish blood in 
the yeins of nations : can his labors die ? shall his 
words be forgotten ? No. The ever rolling surf 
of ages cannot obliterate the foot-prints he leayes 
upon the shores of time. He may be humble — 
the world may not call him great ; but he has made 
his mark upon those tablets which never give up a 
trace. 

He that does the will of God shall abide in his 
religious labors. His prayers at the family altar 
have a double record : one in heaven, on the book 
of God's remembrance ; and one on earth, on the 
hearts of the inmates of his home ; and neither 
shall ever pass away. The lessons of religious 
truth, which he there inculcates, shall find a lasting 
lodgment in the susceptible breast of Childhood. 
His children may be led into vicious courses ; they 
may appear to scorn his teachings, and trample his 
prayers under their feet. It is only for a time. 
The good seed, sown by a parent's hand, cannot be 
easily rooted out of their hearts. His prayers, his 
tears, his holy life, can never be forgotten. His 
labors for the Church shall be equally fruitful and 
enduring. Not in vain (though it may seem so at 

17 



258 EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 

the time) does he faithfully fill his place, and do 
his work in the house of God. His regular labors 
in the Sunday-school may seem ineffectual; but 
they are not. His constant presence in the prayer- 
room, may not appear productive of much present 
good ; but it will not be found so at the last. The 
words of warning or encouragement, which he ad- 
dresses to his brethren, may fall on ears apparently 
listless ; but yet, they reach the heart. Memory 
takes them up ; and conscience repeats them ; and 
the Holy Spirit reiterates them ; and when for- 
gotten by the speaker, they are telling on the life 
of the hearer. Besides, nothing is ever finally for- 
gotten ; and every word which the good man ut- 
ters in his brother's ear on earth, shall be pro- 
claimed from the house-tops, on the judgment 
morn. Then, all his patient labors shall be re- 
membered ; and their effect shall appear ; and 
their reward shall be given him. The good man's 
works five after he is dead. When you buried the 
sainted ones who went out from among you in the 
years gone by, and came sadly from their graves 
to your homes, came they not with you? Did 
their memory perish ? Has the odor of their piety 
even yet passed away ? Let us, then, so labor for 
God and the Church, that when we die, we may 
leave in the world an element of religious power 
which shall go on accumulating to the end of time. 

He who does the will of God, shall abide for- 
ever in his affections. These fair, frail flowers, 
which share always the destiny of their objects, 
he hangs around the enduring and imperishable. 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 259 

Even in his sympathies for his kind at large, this 
extraordinary providence — this wonderful fore- 
sight — appears. It would seem as if he were 
gifted with Divine wisdom so to fix his affec- 
tions that none may be lost, or fail to bring him a 
profitable return. He falls in love, not with the 
infirmities, but with the excellences of humanity. 
The welfare of the race is the object of his passion. 
He would not see them suffering, groveling, pol- 
luted, and dying. And are his earnest desires for 
their relief doomed to disappointment ? Shall he 
not yet look with glad eyes, upon redeemed, re- 
generated, and glorified humanity ? Shall he not 
witness their translation to a clime uncursed of 
sin ? Shall he not see " the new heavens and 
the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness?" 
Shall he not see them gifted with physical per- 
fection and affluent intellect, and rich and happy 
and immortal? And shall he not rejoice in all 
this? 

The good man shall abide forever in the bands 
which link him to his friends. These are attached, 
not to their perishable persons and fading features, 
but to their undying spirits. The complexion of 
the soul, the stature of the intellect, the symmetry 
of the heart, the graces of devotion, — these are the 
beauties which awake his admiration, and secure 
his affection. The majesty of mind, the royalty of 
heart, the sovereignty of soul ! here is the triune 
social deity, to which the good man pays rightful 
homage : no dumb and perishable idol ; but immor- 
tal qualities, eloquent of truth and good. Ay, 



260 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 



these shall live and last. Freed from infirmity, un- 
bound, unclogged, the wing of Intellect shall sweep 
the heaven of heavens. The flowers of tenderness 
and love, with all their olden beauty heightened 
by the hues of Paradise, shall bloom unfading, in 
the gardens of the skies. The fires of devotion, 
freed from the damps of earth and sense and sin, 
and fed by immortal hands, shall lick the throne 
of the Eternal. And shall he whose affections are 
fast bound to such qualities love in vain ? Thank 
God, the good man's affections cannot die. Bound 
to the good and true, bound to the high and holy, 
fast bound to the Infinite and Eternal, while good- 
ness, truth, and eternity endure, they shall never 
be unclasped. 

He who does the will of God on earth, shall 
abide forever in his person. The image suggested 
by this language is of one standing firmly, as on 
a rock, with high port and firm eye, while storm 
and tempest and billow dash over him in vain. 
And some such shocks are destined to try the 
footing of every Christian. Let them come. He 
fears them not. With his feet planted on the 
"Rock of Ages, and his arm around that Cross which 
hallows the heart it presses, nought shall shake 
him from his steadfast hold. Let the winds of 
misfortune blow, as blow they will, on the happiest 
sons of men : he will abide their fury. They may 
dash from his lip the cup of anticipated joy ; but 
he knows that the vessel is caught by unseen 
hands, and that, brimming with the nectar of the 
skies, it shall yet be given him again. They may 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 261 

sweep away the purchase of a life of toil ; they 
may dash his treasures into the deep ; but not one 
regretful glance shall follow them ; for faith assures 
him of a richer treasure, which they cannot reach. 
Laden with disease and pain, they may still blow 
on. They may chill his blood ; they may harrow 
up his soul ; they may cover him with loathsome- 
ness and convulse him with agony ; but still, high 
above the wild confusion of the storm, and the 
dismal voices of his own irrepressible anguish, 
shall swell that paean of the unblenched spirit, 
" Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." 

Wilder and madder still they may blow. The 
storm of misfortune may deepen to the tempest of 
persecution. The hot simoom of slander, burdened 
with poison and death, may blacken his garments. 
What matter ? He wears an inner robe of right- 
eousness, whiter than the light. Fierce and deadly 
gusts of opposition may come. They are power- 
less to do him harm. His life and possessions are 
insured, for more than their value, in a company 
whose solvency the last fires cannot shake. Dead- 
lier still let the tempest fall ; full of fire-brands, 
arrows, and death ! Surely, he is overwhelmed ! 
Surely, he has perished under the terrible charge ! 
Wait till the din of the conflict ceases, and its 
smoke passes away, and I will show you a sight : 
There he stands ! There ! the same man still ; 
with his feet upon the Rock, and his arm around 
the Cross, and his eye uplifted towards the ineffa- 
ble Glory ; and lighted with the fires of love and 
faith and hope and joy. 



262 EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 

But now comes the last shock : the storms are 
done, and the billows rise. The chill waves of 
death are fast rising, and even now they break at 
his feet. Surely, this is too much ! No. Wait 
and see. Higher, and yet higher, rises the black 
and angry flood. See ! it grapples with a fair- 
haired child that clings to his knee ! His child ! 
She looks up, in mute appeal : " O ! father, save 
me ! " she would say ; but cannot speak. A mo- 
ment, and the waves go over her, and she is swept 
out into the bleak Unknown. There is a look of 
anguish on the father's face ; but it passes, and a 
smile of strange confidence and meaning takes its 
place. Higher, and yet higher, rise the waves! 
There is one leaning on his arm. She has long 
leaned there. That arm has been her stay for 
many weary years ; but it cannot support her now ; 
and she does not think it can. She turns her face 
to his, and with a smile of unearthly sweetness 
and beauty, sinks down under the dark wave. 
Higher, and still higher, rise the waters. They 
are on his breast. They chill his heart. Their 
foam is on his hp, Still his eye does not blench — 
his cheek does not pale. Gathering up his soul, he 
hurls it into the one word, " Glory!" and yields 
to death. The waves are gone over him — he is 
hidden from our sight. " But," you say, " he did 
not abide that last test. He was conquered by 
Death." Wait a little ; till the storm passes away, 
and the waves subside. Now look again. The 
Rock has risen, or the waves have fallen. We 
see no trace of those dark waters now : only the 



EPHEMERAL AND ETERNAL LIFE. 263 

Rock. And behold ! it is broader than earth ; and 
it is covered with the richest verdure ; and flowers 
of every hue bespangle the green ; and a wonder- 
ful tree full of strange and beautiful fruits casts a 
pleasant shadow over all. And there is a crystal 
stream — brighter than molten diamonds is its 
wave. And there are beings with shining wings, 
and everlasting brightness on their brows. And 
look ! there is the same sweet child, and the same 
fond, fearless woman, and the same brave, strong 
man whom we saw, a little while ago, on the cold, 
barren rock, amid the choking waves of death. 
The same ! the very same ! but O ! how altered 
now ! The look of pain and fear is gone from the 
face of the little one ; and she smiles such smiles 
as angels only see. There is no more pallor on the 
mother's brow — no more weakness in her frame. 
She seems the impersonation of immortal youth 
and beauty. And the man — the husband, father ! 
He seems more changed than either — more won- 
derfully glorified. But with it all, there is the 
same high look of boundless confidence which he 
wore, when, on the Rock, he encountered misfor- 
tune and persecution and death. He looks as if 
he might abide forever. This must be heaven. 
It is ; and here " he that doeth the will of God, 
shall abide forever." 



xvni. 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 

" Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call ye upon Him 
while He is near." — Isa. lv. 6. 

Personal effort on the part of every man is, 
by Divine appointment, rendered essential to his 
salvation. And yet we are accustomed to say 
that Christ died to save men — all men. Why 
then are not all men infallibly saved ? They are, 
in so far as their salvation was unconditionally 
involved in the death of Christ. But their com- 
plete salvation was not unconditionally accom- 
plished by the sacrifice of Christ. What then is 
the precise extent to which all men are benefited 
by the Atonement ? Precisely to the extent, in 
all essential things, to which they were injured by 
the fall of Adam. We receive in consequence of 
the sin of our first parents — not by imputation 
but by transmission — a moral taint, a complexion 
of evil, which disposes every man to sin ; and 
which, but for the Saviour's interposition, would 
irresistibly dispose every man to sin. But this 
interposition of Christ confers upon every indi- 
vidual of the race, independently of his own choice 
and agency, a Divine influence which elevates 
him from a state of helpless depravity into a moral 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 265 

agent, capable of good or evil, according to his own 
free, unfettered choice. He thus stands, by virtue 
of the Atonement, with reference to the Divine 
law, essentially where the first man stood ; able, 
with the help which is freely and fully guaranteed 
to him, to keep it ; and equally free, if he prefer 
to risk the consequences, to break it. For his future 
destiny, it depends absolutely upon himself. God 
is not, and cannot be, responsible for it. He fur- 
nishes man all needful information with reference 
to his past history, present condition, and future 
destiny ; tells him of his fall, indicates those con- 
sequences which are personal to himself, points to 
the relief which has been kindly furnished by the 
interposition of Another, and shows him a " new 
and living Way," by which he is free and able to 
ascend far beyond the height from which he fell. 
In the name of conscience and reason, ought God 
to be expected to do more ? If, after all this, man 
would rather grovel than soar — rather wallow in 
pollution than ascend to purity — rather sink to 
hell than climb to heaven — ought he not to have 
the privilege of pleasing himself ? 

God has given man the earth for his temporal 
portion ; has furnished him with the germ of fruit 
and root and grain ; has adapted the soil to the 
seed, and become responsible for the genial influ- 
ences of climate ; has instructed him in the art, 
and furnished him with the means of successful 
cultivation. What more would he have ? Would 
he hope to obtain both seed and fruit without ex- 
ertion of his own ? Would he expect a Divine 



266 GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 

Hand to plant, and cultivate, and harvest, and 
bring to his garner, and prepare for his table, and 
adapt to his palate, and actually put into his 
mouth, whatever was necessary for his health and 
his pleasure ? And if, expecting and desiring all 
this, he should refuse to make any effort to satisfy 
his hunger, and finally die of starvation, would he 
not richly merit his wretched doom ? 

The water which quenches our thirst and puri- 
fies our persons and makes life so sweet and 
beautiful, flows deeply under earth. Should we 
complain because God has not caused it to flow 
everywhere upon the surface, and into our cham- 
bers, and over our persons? Should we cease 
therefore, to dig for the fountain, to bathe and to 
drink ? Should we die ? 

Should we complain because cotton and linen 
do not grow in every man's house, ready spun and 
woven, and dyed and printed, and made into gar- 
ments adapted to his comfort, convenience, and 
style of living, and changing with his fashions ? — 
because cloth-mills do not spring up at every 
man's hand, and the looms of Cashmere do not 
shred their gorgeous fabrics in every lady's cham- 
ber ? 

Because the materials of our dwellings must be 
gathered from the forest, the kiln, the quarry, and 
pass through laborious and expensive processes ; 
because fine houses do not spring up in a night at 
our bidding, like the magic palace of the Arabian 
prince, should we therefore refuse to shelter our- 
selves from the cold and heat and become squalid 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 267 



savages, or die from voluntary and evitable expos- 
ure ? Because towns and cities and ships of war 
and commerce do not construct themselves to our 
hand, should we therefore forego all corporate as- 
sociation, and cease all intercourse with distant 
peoples ? 

Because all medicines, needful for the preserva- 
tion or restoration of health, are not ready ex- 
humed, distilled, analyzed, mixed, prepared, pre- 
scribed, and administered, without trouble, expense, 
or nausea, should we therefore cease all efforts to 
contend with disease, and yield ourselves the help- 
less and passive victims of infection and contagion 
and fever ? 

Because learning is not intuition, and the wis- 
dom of all the wise and the deep science of the 
universe may not all be comprehended in one men- 
tal glance, should we therefore refuse any longer 
to study and to know ? 

And the Bread of Life, broken for us on Cal- 
vary ! shall we not go to possess it ? shall we not 
labor for it ? must God force it upon us ? And 
the " Fountain opened for sin and uncleanness ! " 
is it too much trouble to seek its healing waters ? 
And the robe of righteousness — the "wedding 
garment " of salvation ! shall we refuse it because 
it must be made up by our own hands with " fear 
and trembling ? " And because as builders, we 
must labor in the spiritual temple of the Lord, 
shall we prefer to be shut out from its glorious 
walls forever ? And because our sin-sick souls 
can only be healed by a personal application to the 



268 GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 



Great Physician, shall we suffer the deadly leprosy 
of evil to consume us ? Because the knowledge of 
God must be diligently sought, shall we abide in 
eternal ignorance ? Will we be such fools ? Then 
let eternal hunger and thirst and nakedness be our 
portion ; let us find no shelter from the storm of 
God's wrath ; let us sicken and die of sin, and 
dwell forever in the foul darkness of perdition; 
for richly do we deserve our doom. 

But personal effort, timely and faithfully made, 
will infallibly secure the full salvation of every 
man who makes it. There is a time, in the his- 
tory of every human agent when, if he seek God 
faithfully, he may find Him ; when, if he call 
upon Him fervently, " He is near," and will hear 
the call. No difference who seeks or calls, in ac- 
cordance with these conditions of time aod faith- 
fulness. 1 " God is no respecter of persons." He 
will hear one man as soon as another. But there 
is a time, or times, when God is nearer to every 
man — readier to hear and help him — than at 
other times. Perhaps he is never again in life so 
near to us as in youth. He utters, with extraordi- 
nary emphasis and positiveness, that encouraging 
assurance, " They that seek me early shall find 
me." There is something of vernal freshness in 
the youthful heart which, like its face, withers and 
darkens under the more ardent sun of life's advanc- 
ing season. It is more susceptible to all impres- 
sions — it is especially more susceptible to religious 
impressions — than at any subsequent period. It 
has a warmer, quicker confidence. It has not yet 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 269 



learned the world's hard lesson of distrust. It is 
prepared alike for feeling and for faith. It is 
nearer than it ever can be again to the natural 
innocence of childhood. There would seem to be 
something in the early loveliness of its moral feat- 
ures which attracts the eye of God, who wishes 
to touch those features with the seal of holiness, 
that their beauty may be hallowed and immortal. 
Then besides, there is in youth so much of promise, 
both for itself and others,. that we do no violence to 
reason in supposing the Divine Being to exert all 
his influence — by the agencies which He has ap- 
pointed and without at all interfering with the 
freedom of the will — to perfect this character and 
fulfill its utmost promise of future usefulness. 
Then let the young seek the Lord ; for He will be 
found of them : let the young call upon Him ; for 
He is near to them. 

Again, God is particularly near to those who 
deeply feel their need of his mercy and grace. 
That surprising conception of the sinfulness of his 
nature and life, that true and deep understanding 
of his relations with God, and that keen compunc- 
tion for sin, and earnest desire to escape from its 
influence and consequences, present and future — 
which visit rarely and suddenly the heart of the 
sinner — are wrought by the immediate agency of 
the Holy Ghost. It is not too much to say, that 
God is near to that heart which He enlightens and 
pierces ; that He will hear that cry which his 
own overwhelming revelation of Himself wrings 
from the awed and stricken soul. They are won- 



270 GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 

derf ul tilings — these seasons of deep moral feeling ! 
They are Divine touches ; under which the spirit 
thrills and burns ; Divine gleams which dazzle its 
vision. They are spiritual oases in the desert of 
the hardest and driest life ; bright with verdure 
and beauty, and vocal with the minstrelsy of 
heaven. We close and slam behind us the door 
of our childish innocence, and rush wildly and 
madly out into the dark ways of sin and guilt, 
and wander there until we grow accustomed to the 
gloom and forgetful of the danger ; when suddenly, 
the long-closed door is opened, and a gush of home 
light illumines our path, and reveals to us the 
fearful precipice upon whose brink our careless 
feet have strayed ; and at the same time we see 
the beckoning hand and hear the kindly call of a 
Divine Father ; and our hearts are melted ; and 
we glow and burn with the wild impulse to rush 
into his parental arms, and never leave them more. 
Then let the convicted sinner seek the Lord ; for 
He is near to him : let him call upon the Lord ; 
for He will hear him. 

Not so near, truly, but yet comparatively near, 
is God to those whose rational convictions still have 
power to move them to duty. It must be plain to 
every man who thinks, that the great essential of 
moral agency is a proper balance between the 
moral and all the other powers of the soul. One 
may have, naturally, more or less of intellectual 
and pathematic power ; but if his moral forces are 
not strong enough to move and control his powers 
of intellect and heart, it is plain that all these fine 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 271 



capacities are either useless or something worse. 
Now this balance is — must be — perfect, when the 
child first arrives at years of accountability ; when 
he first becomes a moral agent. Every transgres- 
sion impairs it : the moral powers are weakened,, 
more and more, as he advances in sin. But no 
man who retains the ability to obey his own con- 
victions has quite lost it. There is still hope — 
help — for such a man. It may be necessary — it 
will be — to cultivate his moral forces to the 
utmost, in order to qualify him for a given moral 
action ; that of repentance, for example. The bal- 
ance is against him, though not beyond recovery. 
He must pile, by voluntary reflection, weight after 
weight into the moral scale, until he is qualified to 
take the first step ; and then, with the Cross in his 
eye, and the name of Christ on his lip, let him 
advance. Every succeeding step will be easier 
than the last. The process is a rational one : he 
must walk in the path of every known duty with- 
out reference to feeling : after a while, if he go on, 
he will feel the glow, and see the light. Let him 
seek the Lord while He may be found : let him call 
upon Him while yet He is so near. 

But it should be distinctly understood, and always 
remembered, that personal effort, unless timely 
and faithfully made, will avail nothing towards 
securing one's salvation. The text teaches us 
as distinctly — though only by implication — that 
there is a time when God will not be found and 
will not hear, as that there is a time when He 
will be found if sought, and will hear if called upon. 



272 GOD'S- GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 



This time occurs, with many men, in the midst of 
the interests and affections of life, and with noth- 
ing to emphasize it, even to their own conscious- 
ness. They pass the limits of Divine forbearance. 
They rush on in sin until God is lost to them — 
out of sight and hearing — for any purpose of 
mercy. All the probabilities are against the con- 
version, for example, of a very aged sinner. The 
fount of feeling is dried up in his heart, by the 
fires of sin ; or frozen over, with the ice of selfish- 
ness. Nothing melts him to tenderness : nothing 
softens him to tears. He has forgotten that he 
has a conscience ; or it is seared : the world's hot 
iron has gone over it so often, that he does not 
shudder even at the thought of the penal fires of 
the damned. If he enters a church, it is from 
habit or curiosity, not from duty or interest in his 
own salvation. The Holy Spirit has been so fre- 
quently grieved away from his heart, that He has 
probably taken his everlasting flight, and left him 
to believe a lie ; to hug to his soul some specious 
theory, with which the Devil has furnished him, 
and which is peculiarly efficacious in hardening his 
heart and preparing him for hell. What human 
hope for his salvation ? How shall that hardened 
heart be melted to the heart of a little child? 
How shall that dead conscience be quickened and 
aroused ? How shall that proud soul be humbled ? 
How shall that nature, incased in selfishness, open 
to the timid hand and gentle knock of the angel of 
kindness ? He is lost : as certainly lost as if hell 
already held him in its burning grasp. 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 273 



It is generally too late, for the subject of any 
decided vicious passion, to seek or call successfully 
on God. Habit binds hirn with bars of adamant 
to his darling sin. It has grown into his nature. 
It has underwrought his moral and intellectual and 
even physical constitution. He is no longer the 
same man: the moral fires which would have 
purified his intellectual and passionate powers, and 
maintained them in healthful action, have been 
extinguished. He has lost the spiritual balance. 
He has no longer moral force to accomplish what 
lies within easy reach of his natural abilities. 
Intemperance has surrounded him with a cordon 
of fire, through which he cannot break ; Impurity 
has confined him in a loathsome dungeon, from 
which he cannot escape ; Avarice has bound him 
with golden fetters, which he cannot shake off ; 
Indolence has stretched him upon a charmed couch, 
from which he cannot arise : and those fires of 
intemperance have stamped upon his brow and 
soul the brand of perdition; and his dungeon of 
impurity is the ante-chamber of hell; and his 
golden fetters will drag him to infernal fires and 
chain him there forever ; and his couch of indo- 
lence will soon be exchanged for the burning pave- 
ments of the lost. O ! if there is in the universe a 
thought full of concentrated horror, it is this : that 
a man should trifle with his own ability to be vir- 
tuous ! that he should play with his capital of con- 
science and grace till the last stake is lost ! that he 
should waste the strength by which he holds to 
God ! that he should fritter away the energies by 

18 



274 GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 



which he may climb to heaven ! that he should 
put out the only light which could guide him 
there, and go in willing darkness and voluntary 
chains, from the open door of heaven to an endless 
home in hell ! 

It is generally too late for those to seek religion 
successfully, who have been for a long time very 
deeply interested in purely worldly affairs. Mid- 
way in the ocean of life stands the fierce whirlpool 
of political excitement ; and many a gay bark has 
gone down in its roaring depths, to be seen no 
more till its shattered fragments are driven, by 
the last death-storm, upon the dark rocks of eter- 
nity. There is a charm in the excitement of 
political life, which few are able to withstand ; and 
which, having once been deeply felt, hardly any 
one is able to shake off. Few professional politi- 
cians have any religion in their politics ; and fewer 
still ever turn heartily from politics to religion. 
The same is true of most other secular professions, 
the mastery of which requires the long-continued 
application of a high class of intellectual powers. 
Insensibly they acquire a mastery over the moral 
faculties. The profession — the science — receives 
the veneration and affection which are due to God. 
By dint of long looking at the same object, it 
acquires an unjust and monstrous proportion to 
the mental eye. There is induced a useless and 
unnatural antagonism between employment and 
duty. The profession has mastered the man, in- 
stead of the man having mastered the profession : 
he is its slave. So with simple business — money- 



GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 275 



making — it generally absorbs both intellect and 
heart. These people have no time for religion. 
The impression of the Sabbath's sermon, if they 
hear one, is easily erased by the tramping foot- 
steps of week-day cares. And so they will go on 
until in all probability they will awake in hell. 

It is almost always too late for the dying to 
seek, effectually, the God whom they have scorned 
and slighted all their lives. I know we shall turn, 
in thought, to the penitent thief. But there may 
be a vital difference between his case and ours. 
There certainly is such a difference. He had 
probably never been instructed in religion ; had 
never heard the Gospel ; had led the wild and 
ignorant life of an outlaw ; until, at its bloody 
close, he came to look upon the ineffable agonies 
of the dying Son of God, and found new and 
everlasting life in that glance of penitence and 
faith. But we ! — we have always had the Gos- 
pel ; but we have closed our ears and hearts 
• against it ; we have contemned and despised it ; 
we have trampled it under our feet ; we have 
seared our consciences ; we have insulted the Holy 
Spirit ; we have mocked God : and think we now, 
when we come to die and send up our cry of min- 
gled anguish and despair to heaven, that He will 
hear it ? O no ! We deceive ourselves. Says 
He not — and for this very reason that He called 
and we refused, He stretched out his hand and 
none of us regarded — that He will laugh at our 
calamity and mock when our fear cometh? Be 
sure He will do it. What! are we leaning on 



276 GOD'S GOODNESS AND MAN'S UNGRATEFULNESS. 



this broken reed? Are we looking to the pain, 
the stupor, the fear, and the delirium of a dying 
hour, for that mental collectedness and intense 
application of soul, which are absolutely essential 
to all effective calling on God ? 

It is too late — forever too late — for the dead 
to seek God. It remains for the wicked dead but 
to be judged and punished. The Judgment — O 
that Judgment ! when the thrones shall be set, and 
the books opened, and the universe assembled ! 
What will the sinner's prayer avail then? It will 
be too late. " God have mercy upon me ! " he 
may cry ; but God the Father will reply " Too 
late ! " " Christ have mercy upon me ! " and 
the long-suffering Son will answer, " Too late ! " 
" Holy Ghost have mercy upon me ! " and the 
Divine Comforter will have no word of compassion 
left — He can only say, " Too late \ " " Angels 
intercede for me ! " and angelic voices may respond 
— in tones whose melody will mock the bitter 
burden of their answer — " Too late!" "Friends 
of earth — husband, wife, parent, child — plead 
for me ! " and earthly friends may reply, with 
perhaps the latest tears they shall ever shed, 
" Too late ! — too late ! " Therefore, let us seek 
the Lord while He may be found: let us call 
upon Him while He is near. 



XIX. 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 

" Turn you to the stronghold, ye prisoners of hope: even to-day do 
I declare that I will render double unto thee." — Zech. ix. 12. 

The text is an alarm-cry ; the warning of the 
watchman ; the shout of the sentinel ; the first 
gun of the picket ; preluding danger, battle, and 
death. 

The scene is a hostile world ; an enemy's coun- 
try ; an alien and unfriendly soil ; upon which, 
lying encamped and wrapped in dreamless slumber, 
or wandering gayly forth on a thousand errands of 
pleasure or of profit, all unconscious of danger, are 
an innumerable host of men. These are termed 
" prisoners of hope ; " and consist of all impenitent 
and unbelieving souls. 

There is great force, as well as perfect accuracy 
in the figure ; because the chain which binds all 
unbelieving men to a life of sinful impenitency, in 
which they are exposed to the dangers of eternal 
death, is forged of the myriad finks of a false and 
delusive hope of happiness, in the possession of the 
objects of their passionate and worldly pursuit. 

To instance : a very large class — perhaps a 
majority of all the men in the world — devote 
their lives to making money ; under the influence 



278 



THE PRISONEES OF HOPE. 



of the hope that its possession, — the comforts and 
luxuries which it will buy, the social consideration 
which it will procure thern — will render them 
happy. And yet no man ever was, or ever will be 
rendered even content, by such a means. In- 
creased possessions bring always increased anxie- 
ties ; and above all, the passion for accumulation 
grows by what it feeds on ; and a rich man is 
never satisfied that he has enough. All this is 
patent and notorious ; yet men are imprisoned to 
life-long toil, chained like the galley-slave to his 
oar, by the hope of finding happiness in the pos- 
session of riches. 

A much smaller class are bent on making for 
themselves a name ; or carving their own on some 
lofty and splendid niche in the temple of fame. 
Of course nearly all these generous and high-souled 
enthusiasts of youth and hope are wrecked, and go 
down with a broad sea of years between them and 
the haven for which they sailed ; and even the few 
who reach it find but a chill and desert isle ; an 
elevated and dreary solitude ; whence the groans 
of their unrest may sound wider through the world. 
But this does not deter others. Not a few of the 
best and brightest of this world are prisoners to 
the wild and futile hope of finding happiness in 
earthly fame. 

Some, with coarser and harder natures, struggle 
only for power. They are comparatively indiffer- 
ent to reputation. They desire the very substance 
of authority. They would rather be " the power 
behind the throne," than the throne itself. Among 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



279 



these,, a few stern and highly-gifted spirits may 
grasp the sceptre and hold it, until they are crushed 
and mangled and slain, by its deadly and malig- 
nant weight ; but others stand ready and eager to 
raise and clasp the fallen death ; and all unwarned, 
from the greatest to the least, these souls are pris- 
oners to the false hope of finding peace and rest in 
the possession of authority. 

Others, more spiritual, refined, and pure, seek 
their bliss in the wide realm of knowledge and 
thought. In intellectual culture — the broadest, 
the highest, the deepest possible to men — they 
will find their heaven. To this they sacrifice 
health and strength, and all the sweet influences 
of society and of home. And all this, but to ren- 
der themselves more painfully aware of their own 
ignorance ; and at last, perhaps, like the neophyte 
of the Rosicrucian sage, to sink down, withered 
and appalled, under the first frightful caress of 
the awful " Dweller of the Threshold," and be 
haunted through life, by the ghost of her horrid 
'eyes. Thus, while Knowledge leads so many of 
her disciples to sorrow, despair, and madness, she 
deludes them, perpetually, with the vain hope of 
happiness. 

Others look for happiness in the cultivation and 
practice of the private and social virtues. Hon- 
esty, chastity, temperance, and beneficence, are the 
very corners of their being — the lines within which 
they dwell, and on which they depend for safety 
and comfort. But all these virtues, instead of the 
effects of an inward spiritual life, which they 



280 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



counterfeit, are mere political instrumentalities, 
skillfully used for the end of temporal gain. In a 
word, these seeming virtues are a subtle refinement 
in the worst of all sins, which is selfishness ; a 
making clean of the outside, while "within they 
are full of extortion and excess." But the hope of 
the gain of this grand and beautiful hypocrisy, 
binds its devotees like an iron chain. 

A great many, I believe, admit in theory, all 
that the Gospel claims ; are convinced that without 
repentance, faith, and a holy life, they must be un- 
happy here and forever ; but they think there is 
time enough yet. They hope for ample leisure 
and opportunity, in the future, to make their peace 
with God. One after another, they are dropping 
and dying, all unprepared ; but this does not 
alarm the survivors. They are prisoners to a false 
and delusive hope of future time and opportunity 
to repent. 

Then the butterflies of fashion, of all ages and 
of both sexes, that wanton through life, and live 
on its glitter and gaud ! whose stars are the gas- 
lights of the theatre and the ball-room, and whose 
nature is paint, and powder, and enamel, and per- 
fume ! whose young are nurtured on reptile food, 
and poisoned by parental hands ! Who can doubt 
that a wild dream of shadowy and unreal bliss 
imprisons them to their hastening doom? impris- 
ons them in a moral darkness so absolute and 
dense, that scarce one ray of the truth which 
would make them free, can reach their blinded 
souls ? 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



281 



Infidelity itself is prisoner, indeed, to some fiend- 
like hope of escape, by dark, devious, and uncertain 
ways, from the terrible responsibilities of a life of 
truth and reality. It would lose itself in some 
tangled thicket of speculation, where God and duty 
and destiny cannot find it. And there it abides, 
not unfrequently, in the darkness and damp and 
mildew of sin, till the sleuth-hound Death, wakes 
it from its foul lair, and bays it to the fearful 
weapons of the judgment to come ! 

Even the atheist is prisoner to his vain hope 
that death is a dreamless sleep. The sensualist — 
the drunkard, glutton, impure man, voluptuary — 
does he not hope by gross pleasures to satisfy his 
soul, and outbid the anguish of the future ? Even 
the basest and blackest criminal, who reeks with 
lust, and " romps with murder," proposes to him- 
self some heaven of revenge, some paradise of 
malevolence, where his dark soul shall find at last, 
repose. 

These, all, are the " prisoners of hope; " bound 
by a gloomy and unconscious chain, immured in 
unseen walls, far from the haven of purity, and 
exposed to immortal death. 

In the very centre of this earthly plain, and 
upon the highest point, within sight and hearing 
of all those " prisoners of hope " who wander or 
repose upon its surface, there stands a " strong- 
hold." This term, as all will understand, implies 
simply a fastness ; as a fortified city, a fort, a 
castle or fortress, a citadel, a place 'made strong 
for defense, and secure against assaults. In times 



282 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



contemporaneous with the author ( of the text, 
nearly all cities were fortified places, or strong- 
holds. We may thus easily understand the origin 
of the figure. These walled cities, or strongholds, 
were few and far between. The intervening coun- 
try, whether desert or mountain, was the home of 
the savage beast and more savage robber. All 
journeys were perilous — all wanderers in danger. 
Safety was to be found only in the fortresses, 
where men combined and builded for mutual de- 
fense. The baronial castles of the feudal age, in 
Europe, come nearer to our own times, and illus- 
trate the text almost equally well ; as indeed, may 
a chain of forts on an Indian frontier in our own 
country, when the tribes are hostile. Without, 
there is constant danger of violence and death; 
within, there is security and peace. 

Now, in the very centre of this fiend-haunted 
earth, God has built a " Stronghold " for the im- 
periled race of man. He has built it upon the 
highest peak of Time, and in the very meridian of 
human existence. It is based upon the blood- 
stained rocks of Mount Calvary, and rises cruci- 
form, extending its sheltering arms to all the world. 
Its fleshly walls are wide enough to embrace every 
wanderer upon the desert of this life. Its celestial 
forces are strong and numerous enough to make it 
good, forever, against the combined arms of Sin, 
Suffering, Death, and Hell. The name of this 
stronghold is Jesus Christ, and its meaning, the 
God-Man, our Saviour. 

Now, at every salient angle of the walls of this 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



283 



stronghold, there is erected a bastion, or protect- 
ing outwork, which we have learned to call the 
Church. I am not unwilling to admit that the 
Roman Catholics hold one, that the Greek Church 
occupies another, the Protestant Episcopalians a 
third ; and to claim that those ecclesiastial organi- 
zations which are stigmatized, by zealous church- 
men as sectaries — Baptists, Presbyterians, Luther- 
ans, Methodists, and others — hold, each, their 
separate outwork of defense, all built upon the 
Stronghold, Jesus Christ. 

Again, each of these ecclesiastical bastions is 
surmounted by a turret, or watch-tower, which we 
term the pulpit ; and where, in every a£e, are 
stationed the sentinels of God. From the barred 
gates of a lost Eden, to the conflagration of a lost 
world, each age has had, and will have, its senti- 
nel-watchmen, stationed on every turret of the 
stronghold Jesus Christ, to discern the coining 
danger from afar, and warn the unwary reveler 
without the walls, to seek instant safety within the 
citadel. These watchmen speak only as they are 
taught. On the floating flag above them, they 
read the message of warning and of mercy. The 
Old Testament, in its type and symbol, and the 
New Testament, in the blood of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, is the banner of the stronghold ; far-float- 
ing, through every clime, that all may see, and 
emblazoned with every tongue, that all may read, 
the mercy and the love of God. These are ex- 
pressed on the banner, in a thousand forms and 
phrases, — in innumerable and ever- varying trope 



284 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



and metaphor, — in order to arouse the attention 
and engage the thoughts of the unconscious and 
imperiled millions of the race, who remain with- 
out the stronghold. These varying expressions, 
caught by the eyes of the watchmen from the ban- 
ner, are blown, repeated, through the Gospel 
trumpet, in myriad tones of faith and feeling, that 
some may hear, who will not see their danger and 
their safety. 

And thus it comes that I, a God-sent and God- 
appointed man, standing on this watch-tower of 
the stronghold of salvation, have caught this sen- 
tinel-cry, and sound it in your ears to-day : " Turn 
you to the Stronghold, ye prisoners of hope : even 
to-day do I declare that I will render double unto 
thee." 

The sudden and apparently causeless change of 
number, here, arrests the attention and distracts 
the thought : " ye prisoners of hope," and " I will 
render double unto thee." The plural form, in the 
first address, implies the universality of the call. 
" God, our Saviour, — will have all men to be 
saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the 
truth." All are equally endangered; all fallen, 
all depraved, all sinful, all doomed, all exposed 
to the fell executioner of the wrath of outraged 
justice. Among these, God has no choice, no 
favorites, no elect. He "is no respecter of per- 
sons." He will save one as soon as another. He 
would save all. He wills not that any should 
perish ; but rather that all should turn and live. 
He loves all alike, with the riches of a boundless 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



285 



compassion. He has built this stronghold, — at in- 
finite expense to Himself, in testimony of this love 
for the safety of every human soul. Therefore, in 
his universal call, He must use the plural. form: 
"Turn you to the stronghold, ye prisoners of 
hope ! " 

But while redemption is universal, salvation is 
particular and individual. The stronghold is built 
for all ; but not all will enter its precious gates ; 
and force cannot be applied to a moral agent to 
induce an act of virtue ; because, with its applica- 
tion, he ceases to be a moral agent. Thus, while 
all are cordially and lovingly invited, such only 
will enter the stronghold, as freely choose to do 
so. Salvation becomes, . therefore, of necessity, 
personal ; and to each complying soul, God speaks 
in the singular form : "I will render double unto 
thee." 

The promise, " I will render double," in its 
specific quality, refers, obviously, to the penitent 
sinner's past and future life : "I will pardon all 
thy sinful past — I will reward all thy faithful 
future." In other terms, all the wicked actions 
of the penitent's past life are to be blotted out, to 
be as if they had never been, to be forgiven and 
forgotten. He is to be received and welcomed, as 
if he had never sinfully wandered ; and to be 
homed, within the stronghold, as if he had never 
perversely left its walls. This is, indeed, a most 
royal, kingly, and God-like idea of forgiveness. 
It is something higher and purer and better than 
Earth had ever conceived of, before it was Divinely 



286 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



revealed ; and even now that God has uttered it in 
her ear, she can hardly apprehend it with her soul. 
A convicted criminal is the subject of executive 
clemency :' how is he regarded by the pardoner 
and by the other and unoffending members of the 
state ? as one who had never sinned ? Hardly. 
A friend has betrayed, insulted, or wronged you ; 
and you pardon him ; but is it, with you and him, 
thereafter, as if he had. never sinned against you ? 
Not quite. But this assurance we have, on Christ's 
own warrant, that in proportion as we have power 
to forgive and forget, do we approach, in char- 
acter, the likeness of the Divine. This boon, 
then, of full and complete forgiveness to the pen- 
itent sinner, is simply heavenly in its origin, and 
unexampled in its immensity. But when we re- 
member that, superadded to this tremendous ben- 
ediction of the love of God, — this Divine exorcism 
which lays all the ghosts and demons of canceled 
crime, — there is a heaven of purity, and virtue, 
and bliss, and power, and glory, and a career of 
immortal progress in all tljese, we gain some feeble 
sense of the propriety of the expression, " I will 
render double unto thee." 

By the light of this splendid assurance, we may 
see, with clearer vision, the emphasis which is laid, 
in the text, upon the point of time : " even to- 
day ! " As if God had said, " Because to-day is 
yours, and tormorrow may not be ! Because, the 
light of your lives is flickering in the socket of to- 
day, and may be extinguished forever, on the com- - 
ing morrow ! Because the sun of your last hope 



THE PRISONERS OF HOPE. 



287 



is sinking in the western sky of to-day, and will 
not rise again to-morrow ! Therefore, even to-day, 
turn you to the stronghold ! " And this same em- 
phasis summons, with cumulative power our fear- 
ful remembrance, to all the warnings of the past : 
as if God said, "Even to-day! though I have 
warned you many a time and oft before, and ye 
would not heed the warning ; though, through 
friends and kindred, living and dying, I sent you 
many a tender appeal ; though, through the voice 
of a thousand heralds of the Cross, ye have heard 
the summons, and slighted it ; yet, to-day, even 
to-day do I declare, that, if thou wilt turn by true 
repentance and living faith to the Stronghold, 
Jesus Christ, I will render double unto thee." 



XX. 



THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 

"I Paul myself beseech you by the meekness and gentleness of 
Christ." — 2 Cor. x. 1. 

There were malcontents in the Corinthian 
Church. It was broken into parties and torn with 
dissensions. The question was one of discipline. 
Should the law be enforced ? should the guilty be 
punished ? should the proud be humbled ? There 
were not wanting men to oppose this. Some, 
heady and insubordinate, feared lest the discipline 
might fall upon themselves, and did not scruple to 
resent the interference and malign the character of 
St. Paul himself. Others, through a lax adminis- 
tration, were disagreeably startled by the announce- 
ment that such a power inhered in the ministry, 
and might be exercised at need. Others were 
timid, and dreaded more the disturbances which 
would ensue from the violent resistance of the dis- 
affected, than the evils under which the Church 
was slowly dying. Altogether, they were indis- 
posed to the work of discipline. 

And in all this, if we except the perverse and 
wicked among them, they were not much, if at all, 
to blame. Their feelings were natural, if errone- 
ous. They had not fully weighed and considered 



THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 289 

the question. They knew not why the hurt might 
not be slightly healed, and all still go on as usual. 
They did not comprehend that disciphne was es- 
sential to the prosperity of the Church — the last 
test of her spiritual vitality ; failing under which, 
she was already dead. They knew and thought 
of none of these things, and therefore they natu- 
rally shrank from the disturbance and turmoil of a 
battle for the right. They feared its issue. They 
were not certain that it would end in the triumph 
of the right. The opposers and contemners of law 
were strong, bold, and popular. By the arts of 
the demagogue, combined with the advantages of 
fortune, they had made themselves a party in the 
Church; and these would stand around, support, 
and fence them from the shafts of discipline. So 
that, after all, the Church might be disturbed by a 
vain and fruitless effort, and no good be accom- 
plished. They deprecated, therefore, the admin- 
istration of the law, and the cutting off of offend- 
ers. 

To meet the difficulties of this embarrassing 
casei and still assert the majesty and preserve the 
integrity of law and order in the Church, St. Paul, 
holding in expressed reserve his power to command 
their obedience, proceeds, first, to beseech them to 
meet the issue and dare the discipline, " by the 
gentleness of Christ." 

" The gentleness of Christ ! " "We say of a lamb, 
it is gentle, and Christ was the Lamb of God ; we 
say of a little child, it is gentle ; and Christ was a 
little Child ; we say of an amiable and affectionate 

19 



290 THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 

woman, she is gentle ; and Christ had all the ten- 
derness, softness, and sympathy of the female 
heart ; and we sometimes say of a noble, gen- 
erous, brave, unselfish, and high-souled man, he is 
gentle — a gentle man — a gentleman ; and Christ 
was the embodiment and personification of manly 
gentleness. 

Now the gentleness of the lamb and the little 
child is a thing apart and different in kind from 
the other forms of this quality which we have in- 
stanced. Its chief constituents are harmlessness 
and helplessness. Its subjects are incapable, alike 
of wrong and of violence. Only wolves, seeking 
a pretence to devour, complain of the encroach- 
ments of the lamb ; only wolfish men, wanting a 
pretence to destroy, like Herod and Richard III., 
are apprehensive of harm from childhood. And 
this modification of gentleness was a prime element 
in the character of Christ. He was " holy, harm- 
less, undefiled, and separate from sinners." And 
He was helpless, too, as a lamb, or a little child, or 
any other helpless thing ; alike for offense and de- 
fense. From his birth to his death, He was 
gagged and bound ; not with the coarse iron im- 
plements which men consecrate to that torture, but 
with the stronger curb and chain of his Father's 
will. This restraining influence we cannot always 
see ; because it is spiritual, and our eyes are dim 
for such sights ; and because He does not often 
display it. Occasionally, indeed, it breaks in a 
human moan from his dumb lips and writhing 
limbs ; as when the twelve-year boy made answer 



THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 291 

to his mother's reproof, " Wist ye not that I must 
be about my Father's business ? " or when, in the 
garden, kneeling on the bloody threshold of his 
great agony, the strong man groaned, " Father, 
Thy will be done." 

But the gentleness of Christ, which lay in his 
helplessness, was of a higher sort than that of the 
lamb and the child — it was a conscious helpless- 
ness. Unconscious impotence rests in a happy 
quiet ; conscious impotence writhes and groans. 
The lamb and the child know nothing of their 
helplessness, and are happy ; the manacled man 
feels the iron restraint, and is miserable. And the 
suffering is always proportionate to the intensity 
of the energies repressed. A strong, healthy, hardy, 
active, and athletic man will pine to death, under 
bonds which a feeble, diseased cripple will sustain 
without comparative injury. Now the helpless- 
ness of Christ was the manacle of the man, and 
the conscious suffering of the strong man, whose 
energies are held in from their natural flow to ac- 
tion. His was the second perfect physical organ- 
ism of this earth. Physically, He was mightier 
than the sons of men. Strength unequaled, skill 
unmatched, and spirit soaring over all, were held 
in a forceful and unquiet rest, by his voluntary 
submission to his Father's will. O ! He was gen- 
tle as the Lamb of God, led, by the cord of an in- 
finite destiny, through all the weary ways of his 
earthly years — led consciously to his own slaugh- 
ter ! O ! He was gentle as the Child of all the 
ages, lost in the wilderness of this world, cast upon 



292 



THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 



the pirate cruelties of reckless and wicked men, 
mute at the bidding of his iron nurse, and patient 
of the blows that rent away his innocent life ! 
And those cruel, reckless robbers are you and I ; 
for our sins did nail Him to the tree ! 

The gentleness of the refined and educated 
woman is another modification of this quality. Its 
foundation is a temper affectionate, unselfish, and 
kind. Upon this is reared a superstructure of gen- 
erous and lofty mental culture. And over all there 
is thrown, like the last finish of a beautiful temple, 
the adorning refinements of cultivated society. 
These three elements compose the gentlewoman ; 
that is, so far as she is distinguished from the un- 
gentle woman. But there is, in her gentleness, a 
peculiar and subtile element, which eludes the com- 
mon analysis, but which yet we always have in 
mind when we speak of the gentleness of woman. 
And this element resides, essentially, in her sex. 
It is in the female soul, spirit, and mind that we 
look for a certain refined and touching gentleness, 
that is softer, purer, sweeter, and more beautiful, 
like her person, than the corresponding sentiment 
in man. It is more delicate and ethereal, more 
yielding, more intuitive, quicker to perceive the 
needs of others, defter to minister, and, at the same 
time more easily shocked and wounded. 

Now, this peculiar modification of gentleness, we 
may and must attribute, in all its ideal spiritual 
and sensitive perfection, to Christ. He was gentle 
as a woman — gentler than the gentlest woman. 
He aggregated in his heart all the purest, tender- 



THE " GENTLENESS " OF CHRIST. 293 

est, and deepest susceptibilities of womanly nature ; 
from the timid, tender woman-child to the aged 
and almost sainted mother. There is not, has not 
been, will not be, one single gentle impulse in a 
female heart, whose counterpart and fellow is not 
found in the heart of Christ. And this is true, 
from two considerations ; first, his humanity was 
womanity ; He was not man of man, but man of 
woman. All his manhood came through woman- 
hood ; passed through the sea of her soul, and was 
baptized with its tearful tenderness. Hence, his 
boundless sympathy for every form of suffering ; 
a sympathy so vast and tender that it transferred 
every human pain to his own bosom. And sec- 
ondly, He must needs have had this nature to be 
the Saviour of woman. Otherwise, He could not 
have been touched with the feeling of her infirm- 
ities, nor tempted, in all points, like unto her. 
Hence, the gentleness of Christ is the gentleness 
of woman. It is beautiful, and tender, and touch- 
ing, and appealing. It is eloquent with the sensi- 
bility of love, and the sensibility of beneficence. 
It weeps alike at the grave of personal friend- 
ship, and over the apprehended calamities of a 
nation. " The gentleness of Christ ! " " We be- 
seech you by the gentleness of Christ ! " The 
words have all the touching and appealing power 
of woman's tears, and tenderness, and trust. 

But the gentleness of Christ was also the 
gentleness of a perfect man ; and herein his char- 
acter took on its latest and most powerful finish. 
" The grand old name of gentleman " has been 



294 THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 

much abused and sadly prostituted in this modern 
age. Its accidents have been mistaken for its es- 
sence. To instance, in the earlier days of our civ- 
ilization, it was generally found associated with 
wealth, leisure, and the polished courtesies of the 
best society. Successive generations of wealth and 
culture were thought necessary to the production 
of the character. Perhaps this was true ; for class 
distinctions were arbitrary, and broad, and deep. 
It might very well be that those lofty barriers, and 
vast distances, and deep gulfs, of social separation 
could only be surmounted, passed, and bridged by 
the powerful accessories which we have named. 
But, in the progress of the centuries, all this was 
changed. The barriers were removed, the sepa- 
rating distances overcome, the gorges filled up and 
forgotten. Gentle blood flowed wide from the 
acres of the ancestral park, and was drunk by the 
common earth of poverty and toil. The whole 
social soil was enriched ; and here and there, the 
world over, unaccountably to most minds, there 
sprang up the gentleman. His sudden appearance 
in strange places, untutored by the nursing ages, 
has effected a confusion in the conceptions of al- 
most all men. They have forgotten what makes 
a gentleman, or they never knew. With some, it 
is wealth ; with others, education ; with others, 
correct principles ; and with others, an agreeable 
and fashionable address : as if we did not daily see 
wealth, with the ignorance of the clown ; educa- 
tion, with the manners of the boor; honesty, as 
often in servants as their employers ; and fashion- 



THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 295 

able and pleasant manners covering the tiger heart 
of the villain. Nay, these are but the accidents of 
gentle blood ; of late, perhaps, no more than its 
occasional incidents. He is a gentleman, who is 
one inwardly ; and that is gentleness, which is of 
the heart, and whose Gospel name is Love. 
Everything else which the world calls gentleman, 
or gentlewoman, is a base and spurious counter- 
feit: stuffed with learning, stamped with power, 
gilt with riches, and polished with seeming cour- 
tesy, it is still nothing but base metal; and the 
angel teller will reject it at the heavenly counter, 
and cast it into the gulf of hell, and suffer it to 
cheat the world no more forever. 

Another very successful imitator of the gentle 
nature, is a certain easiness of disposition, which 
is "all things to all men," that it may stand well 
with all — that it may be popular ; but this is a 
combination of dullness and cowardice, which is 
easily recognized and always contemned, however 
it may be tolerated. It is made up in the various 
forms of toady, trimmer, man of policy ; still, it is 
not uncommon to hear it said of such an one, " he 
is a perfect gentleman ! " Gentleman, indeed ! 
He is the loathing of a gentleman's soul. There is 
not enough of original man in him on which to 
graft gentleness. 

The very highest form of the manly-gentle char- 
acter is one whose soul is first cast in the largest 
and finest mould of manliness, and then baptized 
with the spirit of Love. He is in sympathy with all 
that is pure, noble, and high ; and will die in their 



296 THE "GENTLENESS" OF CHRIST. 

defense, if need be, as easily and naturally as he 
will live in their light. He hates all wrong, mean- 
ness, and cowardice, with a perfect hatred ; and, if 
possible would banish them from the earth. The 
essence of this character, in its perfection, is, the 
very highest appetites, propensities, passions, and 
powers of the human soul, tempered and restrained 
by love. And such, preeminently, was the gentle- 
ness of Christ. It was no mawkish, maudlin, sen- 
timental goodness ; it was fiery, earnest, and strong. 
It could wield the scourge, utter the denunciation, 
and thunder the judgment against impenitent 
wickedness ; while it could receive and embrace 
penitent wickedness, in its lowest and most aban- 
doned forms. The gentleness of Christ is the in- 
carnate expression of the chivalry of Heaven ; it is 
mounted upon infinite perfections, and armed with 
the lightnings of infinite Power, against the dragon 
Evil, in all his foul transformations ; while, at the 
same time, it stops, in mid-course, to listen to the 
wail of the helpless and minister to the wants of 
the needy. Behold Him, in that last charge against 
Death and Hell, which he made on Calvary, reek- 
ing with the blood of his own wounds, with the 
sword of his enemies rioting in his heart, stop to 
look down on a mother's tears, and comfort her 
aching heart with the words, " Woman, behold thy 
son ! " Such is the gentleness of Christ. 



XXI. 



THE SUN OF EIGHTEOUSNESS. 
"Iam the light of the world." — John viii. 12. 

Amokg- all the figurative characters of Christ 
which we find in the Bible, few are more interest- 
ing and suggestive than that in which He proclaims 
Himself "the light of the world." It is of fre- 
quent occurrence in all parts of the Scriptures. 
The Jewish rabbins think that the Messiah is in- 
tended in Genesis i. 3, where God said, " Let there 
be light, and there was light." Their comment is 
to this effect : " From this we may learn that the 
holy and blessed God saw the light of the Messiah 
and his works before the world was created ; and 
reserved it for the Messiah and his generation, 
under- the throne of his glory. Satan said to the 
holy and blessed God, 4 For whom dost thou re- 
serve that light which is under the throne of thy 
glory ? ' God answered, 4 For Him who shall sub- 
due thee, and overwhelm thee with confusion.' 
Satan rejoined, 4 Lord of the universe, show that 
Person to me.' God said, 4 Come and see Him.' 
When he saw Him, he was greatly agitated, and 
fell upon his face, saying, 4 Truly, this is the Mes- 
siah, who shall cast me and idolaters into hell.' " 

The prophet Isaiah, looking through eight hun- 



298 THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

dred years, to the coming of our Lord, and speak- 
ing in the name of the Almighty, says, " I, the 
Lord, have called thee in righteousness, and will 
hold thine hand, and give thee for a covenant of 
the people, and for a light of the Gentiles ; to open 
the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the 
prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the 
prison-house." 

Malachi, prophesying four hundred years before 
the coming of Christ, says, " Unto you that fear 
My name, shall the Sun of Eighteousness arise, 
with healing in his wings." 

The Evangelist Matthew, quoting from Isaiah, 
says, " The people which sat in darkness saw great 
Light ; and to them which sat in the region and 
shadow of death, Light is sprung up." 

Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist, says 
St. Luke, when suddenly relieved from his mirac- 
ulous dumbness, was filled with the Holy Ghost, 
and prophesied, saying, " Through the tender 
mercy of God, the day-spring from on high hath 
visited us ; to give Light to them that sit in, dark- 
ness, and in the shadow of death ; to guide, our feet 
into the way of peace." 

St. John says of Christ, " In Him was life ; and 
the life was the Light of men. And the Light 
shineth in darkness, and the darkness compre- 
hended it not. John the Baptist was not that 
Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. 
That was the true Light, which lighteth every 
man that cometh into the world." And Christ 
Himself says, " As long as I am in the world, I 



THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 299 

am the Light of the world. Yet a little while is 
the Light with you. Walk while ye have Light, 
lest darkness come upon you ; for he that walketh 
in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth. While 
ye have Light, believe in the Light, that ye may 
be the children of Light. I am come a Light into 
the world, that whosoever believeth on Me should 
not abide in darkness. I am the Light of the 
world : he that followeth Me shall not walk in 
darkness, but shall have the Light of life." 

And this " Son of Man " is fully justified, it 
would seem, in the claim which He sets up to be 
the " Light of the world ; " though we were to 
take Him literally, and understand that claim in 
the most extended sense of the words employed. 
He might, with all propriety be considered even 
the material " Light of the world ; " for He it is 
that supplies, and has always supplied, the mate- 
rial world with light. He is its Divine Creator. 
44 By Him all things were made ; and without Him 
was not anything made that was made." He gave 
the earth and sun, and all things else which per- 
tain to the mechanism of the universe, their birth, 
and form, and place, and motions ; and ordained 
the laws which should fix them in their respective 
spheres. His was the hand which lighted, origin- 
ally, that great central torch on which so many 
worlds depend, and which has since made it to 
burn on for thousands of years unconsumed. He 
pervades immensity, upholding all things by the 
word of his power. 

Besides, He saved the world, and all that it con- 



300 



THE SUN" OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



tains, from premature destruction. Its earliest in- 
habitants violated the divine law. The penalty 
was death ; immortality was forfeited ; the flames 
of justice were waiting to do their final office on 
the world. The curtain which should enshroud the 
sun, and quench his fight forever, was trembling in 
the hand of the waiting angel ; when Christ threw 
back the gathering darkness, by casting his resist- 
less light before it, and proclaiming that He would 
suffer the penalty of man's sin ; while the world 
should live on and have another trial. He was 
thus doubly entitled to be regarded, even in a ma- 
terial sense, as " The Light of the world." 

And if the influence of his grace still preserves 
it from year to year, is not his claim thereby 
strengthened? Take away the grace of Jesus 
Christ out of the world ; take away " the Light 
that lighteth every man that cometh into the 
world ; " take away Christ's Holy Spirit, " the 
manifestation of which is given to every man, that 
he may profit withal ; " take away the Bible, which 
Jesus Christ gave the world ; and morally, what 
would be the condition of our race ? Could ante- 
diluvian wickedness furnish its parallel ? Not by 
a million fold ; and the wicked of that day were* 
swept from the earth by a flood ! Could Sodom and 
Gomorrah become its type ? But in one thing : the 
fiery deluge which overwhelmed them as it would 
consume the earth ; in all else those cities would 
have the advantage ! If, then, Christ made the 
world and lighted it originally ; if He sustains it in 
existence from day to day ; if his interposition pre- 



THE SUN OF EIGHTEOUSNESS. 301 



vented its premature destruction ; and if his grace 
still preserves it in being : could even the largest 
construction of his words, when He says, " I am the 
Light of the world," convict Him of extravagance 
or impropriety ? 

In a still closer, more direct, and efficient sense, 
Christ is the intellectual " Light of the world." 
We refer not now to the patent truth that, from 
his grand and all-creating intelligence, sprang all 
forms and endowments of sentient life ; but to the 
immediate influence of his Gospel upon the forces 
and activities of the world of mind. Striking illus- 
trations of this influence are as numerous, in every 
community, as true Christians. "Whoever submits, 
sincerely, to the Gospel of the Grace of God, gains 
by that submission the highest attainable stimulus 
to his intellectual powers. The humblest and most 
besotted intelligence to be found among the igno- 
rant and degraded masses of a great city, if brought 
under the evangelizing influence of the Gospel, 
shall emerge from its darkness, its ignorance, and 
its crime ; shall gather, day after day, slowly, in- 
deed, but certainly, knowledge, thought, capacity, 
power; until the most skeptical shall recognize 
and concede the attributes of manhood in the being 
who, a little while ago, was under the habitual and 
apparently hopeless domination of appetites and 
passions simply brutal. Seek, again, the largest 
and most affluent intellectual endowment which a 
large city contains ; add to this all the advantages 
of liberal and patient culture ; endow it with the 
largest experience, gift it with the most glorious 



302 THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



worldly success, and stimulate it with the most 
passionate ambition. Here, then, we have all that 
nature and circumstance can do for the man intel- 
lectually. And he is a great man, in one sense ; 
and yet he is a mean man and a little, in another ; 
for all his intellectual exercises are contracted 
within the narrow circle of his selfish cravings. 
He has great powers ; but they are cramped and 
dwarfed. He is an eagle caged — a lion chained. 
Unbar the cage, break off the chain, and the swoop 
of his mighty pinions and the lash of his agile 
strength shall seem, comparatively, to devour the 
earth and air. Now this is precisely what religion 
does for the kingliest souls ; it sets them free to 
soar sunward and explore the earth. It unchains, 
unprisons, rouses, and expands them. 

And just here there lies a fair appeal to the 
memory and the consciousness of Christian men. 
"When they have loitered on their journey, and lin- 
gered so long and so far behind their Master, that 
the last echo of his retreating footsteps has been 
lost to their listening souls ; when the last glimmer 
of the halo round his holy brow has faded from their 
darkening vision ; when the shadow of neglected 
duty and the cloud of dark temptation have shut 
them in ; when forked paths, and mists, and mid- 
night, and uncertainty, have bewildered and per- 
plexed them, until they knew not which way to 
turn ; when Experience nor Reason would hear 
their voice nor answer to their call, save to per- 
plex and deceive them ; and when fierce and inex- 
orable Necessity, threatening wrong, ruin, and 



THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 303 

doom has compelled them to choose some path 
and move in some direction — albeit they knew 
not whether it were good or evil, right or wrong, 
safe or perilous ; and they have essayed to go 
forward, and stumbled and fallen, upon the brink 
of destruction ; and there, in misery and agony, 
called upon their lost Guide, until the shrieks of 
their spiritual anguish pierced his ear, and He 
has returned in loving gentleness to their side : 
O, then, how the light has shone, and the shad- 
ows flown ! and how Faith has caught the hand 
of the Master, and been led by Him out of the 
dark and tangled thicket of sin, where the preci- 
pices of ruin frowned and beetled on every hand, 
into the broad highway of holiness ; where they 
have knelt with streaming eyes and humbled 
hearts, and promised never again to leave his side ! 
How often has this occurred, in the experience of 
the Christian — no difference what the grade of 
his understanding — until he has been forced to 
realize that, for all the ends even of practical wis- 
dom, Christ is " the Light of the world " to him ! 

Besides these considerations, there remain the 
patent arguments of the intellectual effects of the 
Gospel upon communities, great and small. A 
river or frontier village, or neighborhood, destitute 
of Christian organization or influence — an occa- 
sional example of which may yet be found, in this 
country — is, as all know well who have ever 
found themselves, even for a little while in such a 
spot, " a small but active representation of hell 
upon earth." The brutal dissipation, the reckless- 



304 THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



ness of right, the bloody violence, of such commu- 
nities, who has not heard of and shuddered at ? 
The light of intelligence is quenched by the deadly 
sin-damp ; which is worse than the miner's choke- 
damp. But let the Gospel be carried to such a 
locality, no difference by how humble an instru- 
mentality, and how soon and plainly may one mark 
the quickening effect upon the minds of the de- 
graded population. First, a church and a Sunday- 
school, then a day-school, an academy, a college, 
and all the evidences and fruits of intellectual cul- 
ture brighten over the land. So just are the words 
of Christ, even if taken in an intellectual sense, 
when he says, " I am the Light of the world." 

But once more, and above all — in a sense 
higher, purer, grander, and more intimate — in a 
sense all-eminent and accurate, " Christ is the 
spiritual Light of the world." He who said, " Let 
there be light ! " uttered greater words when He 
said, " The Seed of the woman shall bruise the 
serpent's head." This was the first star that 
rose out of the deeps of heaven, to shed its soft 
and gentle radiance upon an utterly darkened 
world. This was the first appearance, above the 
world's horizon, of the star of Bethlehem. It was 
the star of hope ; and, for a long time, it was the 
only light in the sky of this world. It was the one 
long, steady look of love which the heavens gave 
to sinful man. All else was darkness, or darkness 
broken by the lurid flashes of doom — the light- 
nings of the guardian sword of a lost Eden. But, 
as the dim ages rolled on, other stars of hope and 



THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 305 

promise clustered around it, drawn by the mag- 
netic force of love, until the whole heavens seemed 
aglow with starry promises and harbingers of a 
coming day. There were lights in the gorgeous 
East ; and lights rising above the sad ruins of the 
darkened West ; and stellar glories in the distant 
North ; and something brighter than Magellan 
clouds in the warm South ; and spanning the cen- 
tral arch, an unbanked river of Providence and 
promise — the milky way of prophecy — flowed 
ever broadening on. 

But lo ! the dawn approaches ! Hark to the 
golden chimes of heaven, filling all the air with the 
music of celestial matins ! The ears of faithful 
watchers catch the sound, and they turn to the 
glowing orient ; where, already, pale streaks of the 
coming Glory — the index fingers of the herald 
angels — shine and tremble in their eager pointing. 
Then a richer, deeper glow suffuses half the sky ; 
the purple light of glory clinging to the garments 
of the coming Sun of Righteousness. Dimmer and 
dimmer fade the starry promises from out the minds 
and memories of men ; colder and colder falls the 
morning twilight ; redder and redder glows the 
eastern hope ; till, suddenly, at last, the Glory 
breaks, and the song of the attendant angels wakes 
the world : " Glory be to God in the highest : on 
earth peace, good- will to men ! " But alas ! alas ! 
This glorious and Divine Sun rose in the clouds of 
poverty and humility, ran his lonely course through 
the human heavens, and set in blood, and tears, 
and death. And yet, joy ! joy ! He rose again and 
20 



306 THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

shineth forever ! He faded from our eyes but to 
fill our hearts, and light them on their happy way 
to everlasting life ! 

This is the " Light that lighteth every man that 
cometh into the world ; " that lights up the soul of 
every individual of the race ; that chases away the 
darkness of depravity ; that dispels from his mind 
the gloom of spiritual blindness and ignorance; 
that shows man to himself ; that reveals to him 
" The Light of life ; " that breaks away the heavy 
cloud of spiritual infirmity, and enables him to rise 
to a higher and purer moral atmosphere ; so that 
even the far-off heathen may be led by its guid- 
ing ray, to the gate of eternal life. 

This is the Light that dispels the mystery of our 
being ; that shows us who we are, and whence we 
came, and by what sad circumstance we have been 
made wretched ; that fights up the ages long gone 
by, and shows us how our first parents fell, and 
how we inherit their unholy nature ; that reveals 
to us, so clearly that we need not err therein, the 
principles and conditions of the new probation on 
which we are placed in this world ; that shows us 
that we are moral agents, and that our destiny is 
in our own hands ; and that sends its piercing rays 
to the other world ; showing us, as the reward of 
our faithfulness, the endless glories of heaven ; and, 
as the doom of our wickedness, the ceaseless tor- 
ments of hell. 

This is the Light that shines on the dark pages 
of the Book of Providence ; showing us how those 
natural evils, of which the world is full, are conse- 



THE SUN" OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 307 



quent upon the fall; upon the introduction of 
sin into the world ; or are lasting effects of the just 
judgments of God upon its wicked inhabitants; 
that disease, violence, and misfortune, as well as 
health, safety, and prosperity, are but other names 
for the voices by which God calls us to repentance ; 
and that when our children are taken away, in 
helpless infancy, it is that they may be happy, and 
that we may be induced to follow them and share 
their joy. 

This is the Light that illumines " the valley and 
shadow of death," so that this dreary passage has 
no terrors for the Christian ; that shone in Joseph's 
new rock-hewn tomb, on that memorable morning, 
so many hundred years ago, when a mighty angel 
came down from heaven, and rolled away the stone 
from the door of the sepulchre, and sat thereon ; 
that blinded and overthrew the Roman guard ; 
that broke the bands of death, by which the Sav- 
iour had been three days bound, and poured upon 
the rude walls which shut Him in, the radiant 
glories of the upper heaven ; and ever since, it has 
been shining there, and will shine on, till time and 
graves shall be no more. This is the Light, whence 
come those two twin rays of hope and joy which 
shine on every Christian's grave, and gild it with 
the promise of eternal life ; which fills the dying 
Christian's eye, and sets a halo on his brow ; of 
whose glorious beauty, the lips of Childhood have 
uttered strange, incomprehensible things ; and 
which shows us One, on whose strong arm and 
loving breast we may lean, in our passage through 



308 



THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



the valley and shadow of death, and reveals to our 
enraptured vision the gates of pearl and angel 
hands which wait and beckon for us, a little fur- 
ther on. 

" I am the Light of the world ! " What glorious 
words ! what broad and massy words ! " The 
Light of the world / " of the whole world ! of every 
individual in the world ! No dark reprobate, on 
whom this Light falls not ! No benighted heathen, 
whose soul is not illumined by its beams ! No 
hardened, crime-stained wretch, whose dark and 
downward path to death and hell, is not crossed by 
a ray of this Divine Light, broad enough, and 
bright enough, if he will turn and follow it, to lead 
him to pardon, purity, and lasting peace. " The 
Light of the world ! " without which, the world 
would be wrapped in midnight darkness — in 
worse than Egyptian gloom ! " The Light of the 
world ! " the moral Pharos, whose beams reveal to 
our storm-tossed planet, the rocks on which, if 
heedless, she may strike ; and the harbor which, 
if diligent and wary, she may gain ! Shall we love 
it less because it shines on all ? Him ? " the Light 
of the world ? shall we love Him less because of 
his humility ? — because of his manger cradle ? — 
of his poverty, who had not where to lay his 
head? Because of his sorrowing, suffering life? 
Because of his shameful death ? Because He comes 
.to us " with garments rolled in blood ? " Because 
He " comes from Bozrah with dyed garments ? " 
Whose humility did He assume ? For whose sake 
did He empty Himself of infinite riches and be- 



THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 309 



come poor, that they might be rich ? In whose be- 
half did He battle with sin and death and hell, till 
" his visage was so marred more than any man, and 
his form more than the sons of men, and his vest- 
ure dipped in blood ? " For our sake. Then, shall 
we love Him less because He was not of the earthly 
great ? Nay, rather infinitely more. Henceforth, 
forever hallowed be the humble places where He 
dwelt ! Hallowed be his poverty, his tears, his 
groans, his sufferings, his death, his grave ! Yea, 
and they shall be forever hallowed, forever blest, 
forever bright ! Has He not said, " Henceforth, 
blessed are the poor, the humble, the mourners, 
the sufferers, the dying, the dead ? " Yea, all shall 
be blessed, who warmly, lovingly, and gratefully, 
receive and follow the light which He sends. 

If He be "the Sun of Righteousness," it would 
seem, the Church should be his moon ; and, bor- 
rowing all her light from Him, should yet reflect 
it faithfully upon the world. And so she is, and 
does. Through the ages past, she has been filling 
her shining horn, and pouring more and more spir- 
itual light upon the earth. 

So, individual Christians should be stars. Each 
should receive and reflect an amount of spiritual 
light proportioned to his position and capacity. 
" As one star differeth from another star, in glory," 
so they may differ, in the volume and intensity of 
the fight which they throw upon society ; but all 
should be bright, all shining. 

Analagously, wicked men might be termed 
comets, wandering stars ; out of place in nature, 



310 THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



wild, erratic, whose baleful light is full of pesti- 
lence and war, and to whom will be reserved, if they 
continue in their present course and state, "the 
blackness of darkness forever." 

Let us unitedly pray that the Sun of Righteous- 
ness may soon arise, with healing in his wings, and 
dissipate the pestilential darkness of sin, and illu- 
mine the Church with tenfold glory, and make 
every Christian radiant with spiritual light and 
life ; so shall sinners be converted to God, the 
Church accomplish her mission, and the world be 
redeemed. 



XXII 



TREASURES EOR ETERNITY. 

" Other foundation can no man lav than that is laid, which is Jesus 
Christ. Xow if any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver, pre- 
cious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man's work shall be made 
manifest : for the dav shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by 
fire ; and the fire shall try every man's work, of what sort it is. If any 
man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a 
reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss : but 
he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire." — 1 Cor. iii. 11-15. 

Than this, it seems to us there is no plainer, 
more practical, or fuller text, in the New Testa- 
ment Scriptures. It touches the very essence of 
the Christian life, and is at once encouraging and 
warning ; and the encouragement is soft and ear- 
nest, as the warning is gentle and tender ; yet un- 
derneath the softness and gentleness, there lie 
springs of untold and unmeasured power. If we 
mistake not, there is in human nature a principle 
of perverseness, which renders it more susceptible 
to the influence of moderate than of extreme mo- 
tives ; especially when the motives are moral, and 
the good or evil in which they originate is remote 
from the present. In other words, men are more 
easily moved to prevent moderate losses than utter 
ruin. The milder apprehension seems to operate 
as a stimulus ; the more deadly one as a paralysis. 
Tell a wealthy man that he is in danger of losing 



312 TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



a few hundreds or thousands, and the effect will be 
to rouse him to intelligent effort ; but assure him 
that his whole fortune is imperilled, and in the 
greater number of instances he will sit down in 
stupid despondency. The force of this principle in 
spiritual things is indefinitely increased. The con- 
viction that one is in danger of losing some part of 
heaven's good, will affect him more powerfully 
than the feeling that he may lose heaven itself. 

" The fiend that man harries is love of the best." 

He will do more to climb to his ideal pinacle, than 
to save himself from falling utterly. It is to this 
property of our common humanity, that the Apos- 
tle appeals in the text. We think his meaning will 
be more readily and distinctly apprehended, with 
the help of an illustrative comparison. 

Let it be supposed that we had all heard of a beau- 
tiful and attractive foreign land, to which we were 
desirous of emigrating, after a limited period spent 
in preparation for what we expected and intended 
should be a life-long residence there ; that the prep- 
aration consisted in an accumulation of capital for 
the supply of our prospective wants, and that we 
were well assured that the only possessions which 
would constitute wealth in the country whither we 
were going, were silver, gold, and precious stones ; 
and that notwithstanding this assurance, a consid- 
erable proportion of our number should spend the 
period allotted for preparation in accumulating 
large amounts of our own national currency, bonds, 
stocks, and evidences of private credit ; in the very 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



313 



face of the information, reliably conveyed to them, 
that all these things would be worthless where 
they were going ;■ and that they could never re- 
turn, or sell, or exchange, or hope to derive from 
them any the least benefit or advantage whatever. 
Then we might reasonably look for some such re- 
sults as these : — 

We may suppose the farewells uttered, the 
shores of our birth-land faded forever from our 
sight, the perils of the stormy passage safely over, 
and our bark at anchor in that Harbor of whose 
beauty we had distantly heard and faintly imag- 
ined, but whose reality steeps every sense in the 
delicious intoxication of its overwhelming loveli- 
ness ; that everywhere we see evidences of a new 
and higher civilization than had brightened even 
the fairy-land of our dreams ; that not only is na- 
ture clad with perennial beauty and bloom, and 
sheds hourly her glorious affluence all around ; but 
the arts and appliances of civilized life so combine 
comfort, convenience, and elegance, that on every 
feature of earth and sky there might be written 
that climax of all descriptive words — Perfection. 
Now then, we may begin to see the effects of for- 
mer industry and thrift. The wealthy man, calmly 
conscious of his superior resources, takes precedence 
of all in the passage to the shore ; and there, as 
coffer after coffer of solid silver, and beaten gold, 
and gleaming gems, is thrown open to the gaze of 
all (for there are no thieves in that land and no 
need of locks and bars and guards) ; as the sun- 
beams are thrown back from this rich mass of treas- 



314 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



ure, with dazzling radiance, upon the eyes of the 
crowding gazers, the fortunate possessor of all this 
wealth begins to realize the value of his former ac- 
quisitions. The people press to wait upon him. 
They are eager to do him service. He is escorted 
to a princely home, and entertained with splendid 
hospitality. When ready to make his choice, he 
selects for his permanent residence one of the most 
magnificent mansions in all the land ; fills it with 
comfort and luxury, and adorns it with elegance 
and beauty. He is visited and welcomed by the 
magnates of the state. Even Royalty, itself, con- 
descends to smile upon the man who comes to it 
thus laden with treasures. His influence and coun- 
tenance are sought. His cooperation is solicited in 
the furtherance of the grand schemes of the gov- 
ernment. A sphere of extended and permanent 
usefulness opens before him ; and there, with all 
that can make life honorable and home happy, he 
dwells in peace. 

So, too, the man who has secured but a compe- 
tence — a little silver, a little gold, a few gems, 
enough to raise him above want and make him in- 
dependent — conveys his modest box to the shore, 
and displays it with the comforting thought that, 
at least, he has something to begin life with in this 
foreign land : albeit he may feel one pang — not 
of envy but regret — as he witnesses the reception 
of his wealthy fellow-passenger, that he had not 
more diligently and earnestly labored when the op- 
portunity of accumulation was in his power. Still, 
his competence insures to him the consideration 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 315 



and respect of people of his own rank. He is wel- 
comed. He is able to purchase a comfortable home, 
and to commence life in this new country with a 
solid basis for future exertions, and something 
like a reasonable prospect of ultimate wealth ; 
though he can never hope to overtake those who 
start with more capital then he ; for here there are 
no vicissitudes of fortune ; and all success depends 
simply upon the amount which one invests at start- 
ing. 

But what of him who has spent his time, before 
coming to this place, in accumulating greenbacks, 
bonds, stocks, notes, and accounts ? He finds, when 
the officers come aboard and he displays his treas- 
ure, that it is all worthless. Indeed, he was suffi- 
ciently apprised of this before ; but he chose to be 
self-deceived, and would not believe that what 
procured him consideration and respect in his own 
country, could be utterly without value anywhere. 
Now, when it is too late to repair it, he discovers his 
mistake. He has not one cent in the world of 
current coin, and is obliged to the charity of a 
good-natured boatman for a cast ashore. He car- 
ries his bundles of trash with him, hoping for bet- 
ter fortune there ; but when he again displays his 
treasure, to the crowd upon the shore, they all 
smile and shake their heads. They are not dis- 
posed to sneer ; but they unite in assuring him that 
his whole fortune will not suffice to purchase him a: 
night's lodging, or a single meal, in their country. 
Convinced at last, he flings aside the worthless 
rubbish whose acquisition cost him so much toil 



316 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



and self-denial, and sets out to wander inland. It 
is true that he cannot absolutely suffer here ; that 
the climate is so genial and nature so munificent as 
to relieve him from the apprehension of actual want 
for the necessaries of life ; but a homeless, house- 
less wanderer, the victim of his own sad error, he 
must rebuild from the ground, if he can, the edifice 
of his fallen fortunes. 

The fair foreign land, of which we have heard, 
and whither we expect to go, after a few years 
spent in preparation here, is Heaven. We have 
obtained, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who pur- 
chased it for us at a most costly rate, the right to 
go ; a sure title of conveyance thither and admit- 
tance there. We may lose it ; we may sell it ; we 
may give it away ; we may throw it away ; we 
may alienate it as we will ; but while we keep it, 
it is good, and will be found current when the 
time of our departure shall come. But to retain 
it, requires diligence, pains, and care. It is valua- 
ble, and there are thieves who would steal it, and 
knaves who would gladly defraud us of it; and 
there is one grand and crafty Magician who cries 
evermore in the streets of our earthly house, " New 
lamps for old ! " hoping thus by indirection and the 
glittering display of false wares, to gain possession 
of that prize which he cannot wrest from us by 
open force. But in spite of all we may keep it, if 
we will use sufficient care and watchfulness. 

And in the mean time, our business here is to 
lay up in store for the world to come. We have 
explicit and positive information regarding the cur- 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



317 



rency of our future Home. It consists exclus- 
ively, we are assured, of silver, gold, and precious 
stones ; but the silver is not of earth ; the gold not 
that which we dig from the mine ; the gems not 
those won from the land or deep. The silver is 
the pure white purpose of a life consecrated to 
God ; which is repentance. The gold is the warm, 
bright, glad trust of the heart, which takes hold 
upon the sacrifice of Christ and stands all the 
fires of affliction, without losing anything save its 
earthly dross ; which is faith. The gems are deeds 
of Christian love and holy charity. These are the 
only treasures which will endure and pass current 
in Heaven ; and to accumulate these, is our sole 
errand and object in the present life. But the 
world is full of other treasures, which are counted 
gain by all who are of the World's party ; while in 
the Celestial Country, they are reckoned " wood, 
hay, stubble." Earthly wealth, the most substan- 
tial of all these treasures, is denominated " wood ; " 
it is valuable for many purposes here ; it may even 
be exchanged for the true riches here ; but it is ut- 
terly worthless in the region beyond ; it cannot en- 
dure those fires of Divine justice and holiness 
through which all our treasures must pass. Worldly 
honor, a less substantial affair, is termed "hay;" 
the grass of the earth's fields, mown with the 
sword, dried in the battle-glare, and, with the red 
dew of life upon it, bound about the brows of the 
world's heroes, and fancifully named the " laurel 
wreath ; " albeit, it may be worthily won and 
worn, and aid its possessor in the accumulation of 



318 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



real treasure: — it is yet light, combustible, and frail, 
and will perish at the first breath of that fiery test 
which it must pass. Worldly pleasure, an utterly 
worthless and noxious thing, is named " stubble ; " 
the refuse of the Christian harvest-man ; to be 
burned up or trodden down and buried out of 
sight, before the field can be made ready for the 
seed of life. Such are the competitors of the true 
riches. And alas for their success ! A large pro- 
portion of even the Christian world are spending 
the precious hours allotted them to prepare for 
heaven, in grazing over the barren stubble fields 
of worldly pleasure. Another large proportion 
are striving for worldly distinction ; while a num- 
ber so great as almost to desolate the altars of 
God's house are straining every energy to gain 
the world's wealth ; and these all fondly imagine 
that their material and temporal accumulations 
will stand the fiery scrutiny of God ! 

But the time of our departure is at hand. The 
sails of the ghostly ship which must bear us hence 
are gleaming, even now, through the deepening 
twilight of our declining lives. A little while, and 
our last farewell to the scenes and homes and 
friends we have loved on earth, will have been 
spoken. We shall be on board the death-craft ; 
and the lights and shadows of this fair world will 
be fading from our sight. Then a brief, or more 
probably a lingering, passage across the dark and 
stormy flood (for it is seldom the wind blows fair 
on that grim sea), and we shall anchor in the har- 
bor of the heavenly Canaan. O then, what scenes 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



319 



of transcendent loveliness will greet our eyes ! How 
the richest visions of genius will be beggared by 
that divine reality ! Then the very Inspiration of 
sculpture, picture, poesy, and music shall be mar- 
ried to Immortality, and beget myriad forms of 
beauty and harmony and glory ! And how our 
souls shall drink in delight, as the pure waters of 
the River of God ! And there and then will be 
seen the effect of our earthly accumulations. There 
will be displayed the treasures of the soul. Then 
the man who has perfected repentance in the fear 
of God, perfected faith in holiness, perfected love 
in deeds of loving-kindness, will find that he has 
in abundance, the silver, the gold, and the dia- 
monds of Heaven. Then the silver of repentance, 
passing through death's fires, shall yield its latest 
alloy, and appear a throne of pure white light, 
inscribed by a Divine hand with the words, 
« EARTHLY CONSECRATION APPROVED 
IN HEAVEN." Then the gold of faith shall be 
placed in the crucible of Divine holiness, and tried 
by the fires of Divine justice ; and thence shall 
be wrought, by the hands of Heaven's artificers, 
a crown of glory whose frontlet again shall be 
Divinely inscribed, " Earthly holiness ap- 
proved ln Heaven." Then the jewels of Chris- 
tian love shall be weighed in the balances of the 
skies, and tested by the eye of God, and wrought 
into innumerable stars of glory; and these shall 
deck the crown of glory of the man who is rich 
towards God ; and thus throned on Consecration, 
and crowned with a golden Faith, and gemmed and 



320 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



starred with deeds of holy Charity, he shall take 
his place among the hierarchy of Heaven. 

And so the man who labored on earth with 
moderate zeal and success to accumulate heavenly 
treasure, will receive a proportionably less reward. 
What silver he has will be tried, weighed, and 
reckoned to his credit. It may be small in quan- 
tity, but it will be the beginning of his future 
throne of Consecration ; for throughout eternity he 
will continually add to it, as indeed will all. What 
gold he has obtained will be beaten into a crown ; 
and its name shall be " Holiness ; " though poor 
and small, compared with his who went before. 
The gems which he has secured, will adorn the 
crown; albeit they may be few and their lustre 
dim, beside his who was at once more able, more 
faithful, and more diligent on earth. And he, as 
he notes the contrast, may feel one pang — not of 
envy but regret — that he had not more earnestly 
labored to lay up treasures in Heaven. 

But what of the man who has committed the 
foolish error of supposing, against the express as- 
surance of God, that earthly treasures — wealth 
honor, pleasure — would endure the test of Divine 
scrutiny and pass current in Heaven ? He reaches 
Heaven with no more repentance, faith, or love 
than when he first set out to go there ; with his 
original title, and no more ; with none of the sil- 
ver, gold, or jewels which he might have gained. 
True, he was rich in this world's goods; and he 
could not bring himself to believe that these were 
quite worthless in the sight of God. They pro- 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 321 

cured him consideration and respect here, to the 
last moment of his life. His friends surrounded 
him with every testimonial of esteem and tender- 
ness, when he bade them farewell. Alas ! how 
could he think that they waited only to seize upon 
the fortune which he left behind ? Nay, he heard 
from one who came a little later on, that his 
church mourned him after he had departed ; that 
it was draped with solemn sables ; that he had a 
splendid funeral and an immense following, when 
his body was borne to the grave ; that a good- 
natured minister pronounced a eulogy on his vir- 
tues, and published an obituary notice of his life 
and character, abounding in terms of extravagant 
praise ; and that his family erected a costly marble 
to his memory. Alas ! how could he suppose that 
the church was as worldly as himself? that the 
minister was time-serving or weak ? and that his 
family more memorized their own pride and vanity 
than his virtues ? And now, he dares the fiery 
scrutiny of God and angels, with " wood, hay, 
stubble," for his sole treasure and dependence. 
They are instantly consumed ; and he, " as by fire," 
stripped of all his false securities, naked, scorched, 
destitute, steps at length upon the shores of heaven. 
Alas ! poor, desolate, forlorn, regretful waif of hu- 
manity, snatched by the hands of Angelic Charity 
from a fiery doom ! He does indeed " suffer loss" 
He passes at once from the highest place on 
earth to the lowest place in Heaven ; and must 
begin to seek, there, for the silver, the gold, and the 
jewels which he now values at their real worth, but 
21 



322 



TREASURES FOR ETERNITY. 



which on earth, and under the humble names of 
Repentance, Faith, and Love, he scorned and neg- 
lected for things which perish in the using. 

The shaft which pierces to the mine, where 
sleeps the silver of the skies, awaiting our earnest 
hands to pluck it forth, is in our closets. There, 
with serious seK-examination, mighty wrestling, 
and strong cries of the Soul, may we perfect re- 
pentance in the fear of God, and realize the pure 
and silvery brightness of a Christian consecration. 
The gold of faith lies, in many-veined richness, 
in our ecclesiastical relations. If we gather it, it 
will make us rich towards God. If we neglect it, 
though rich in this world, we shall go poverty- 
stricken to Heaven, if indeed we go there at all. 
But the jewels of that bright land are found in 
most unlikely, most unseemly places ; in the homes 
of the poor ; in the cells of the condemned ; by 
the bedsides of the sick; where Widowhood and 
Orphanage weep in silence, darkness, and desti- 
tution, — there they shine, and wait our coming 
to possess them. All the tears which we wipe 
away from the eyes of Suffering, in this world, are 
caught by the hands of viewless angels, and turn 
to the diamonds of the skies. 



XXIII. 



"LOVE OF THE TRUTH" NECESSARY TO 
SALVATION. 

" Because they received not the love of the truth, that they might 
be saved; and for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, 
that they should believe a lie : that they all might be damned who 
believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness." — 2 
Thzss. ii. 10-12. 

From this striking passage of Scripture, we 
learn, first, that the only possible means of salva- 
tion to lost men is " the love of the truth." With 
this " love of the truth," therefore, God, who " will 
have all men to be saved," engages, through the 
Atonement, to provide every rational soul ; and 
the provision is accordingly made, through what 
is termed " the preventing grace of Christ." This 
grace, or favor, as the terms imply, comes before 
all choice or agency on the part of man, and 
quickens his otherwise dead heart and conscience, 
to see the truth, and love it. That this is fact, 
and not fancy, is evident to all who have ob- 
served, attentively and thoughtfully, the disposi- 
tions of childhood. There is nothing of which it 
is more impatient than deception. It can with 
difficulty forgive the father or the mother who 
deceives it. Its intelligence is the pure crystal 
window which God hath set in the framework of 



324 



"LOVE OF THE TEUTH" 



its soul, that all its chambers may be radiant with 
the light of truth ; and whenever the glass is 
dimmed with the murky breath of falsehood, the 
impatient tenant utters its cry of natural remon- 
strance. And this strong "love of the truth" 
continues almost always through later childhood 
up to youth. The treasure with which God has 
endued the soul, He guards and keeps in its 
possession, till its spiritual majority is passed, 
and it is competent to keep its own possessions. 
Thenceforward, it can and does do, with its spirit- 
ual treasures, just what it freely wills. Some- 
times it conserves and increases them: more fre- 
quently, it wastes, barters, and partly or wholly 
alienates them. And in all this there is no fatal- 
ity, any more than when a father divides his for- 
tune between his children, of whom one may keep 
and increase his capital, and another diminish or 
altogether squander it. The father did not, in 
any degree, influence this differing result, and is 
in no sense responsible for it. On the contrary, if 
a good and wise man, all the influence which he 
could exert was designed and calculated to produce 
the same conservative effect in both instances. 
He impressed on both his sons the same lessons of 
economy. He displayed to them both the same 
example of industry and frugality. Then, when 
he launched them on life, one sank and the other 
rose : each, as he freely chose. 

"We said this " love of the truth," with which 
God endues every soul, is the only means of salva- 
tion to that soul. Nothing can be plainer. God 



NECESSARY TO SALVATION. 



325 



has provided a free salvation for all men, through, 
the voluntary reception of a system of truth ; and 
He provided for their salvation in no other way. 
The key to that system is the Atonement. Pilate's 
question was already answered, in the words, " I 
am the truth." But Pilate had not received " the 
love of the truth ; " and, therefore, did not recog- 
nize it, when he saw it embodied before him. 
Every unbeliever is a new Pilate ; who, with Truth 
before him, in the meek form of the Son of God, 
stands dreamily inquiring, " What is truth ? " And 
then delivers Truth to be scourged and crucified. 
But Pilate did not wholly reject Christ. He said, 
" He is innocent." He said, " He is a just man." 
He said, " What evil hath He done ? " But still, 
with the soft murmur " What is truth ? " on 
his Hps, he rejected Truth. And so, the Pilates 
of to-day can praise the plan of salvation ; can 
see beauty, grandeur, sublimity in it ; while in 
heart and life they turn away from " the truth," 
and murmur with all philosophical sentimentality, 
" What is truth ? " Thus doing, their salvation is 
one plain, simple, utter, and eternal impossibility. 
Rejecting " the love of the truth," they throw 
away the only power by which truth can be ap- 
prehended. The totally blind may seek as well 
and hopefully for the light, as he who rejects "the 
love of the truth," for the truth. His soul is a 
completely darkened room ; wherein Thought, and 
Conscience, and Will wander blindly, and stumble 
helplessly, and sometimes contend wildly, until 
one or other is throttled and dead ; while all the 



326 



"LOVE OF THE TRUTH " 



time they have but to open the shutter of preju- 
dice, and let in the light of which the outer world 
is full, in order to discern their loving relation to 
each other, and the tenderness of Him who shines 
upon them in every ray of Truth. That gloomy 
and unhappy soul, full of doubt and stumbling and 
conflict, is the mansion of every impenitent man's 
unrest. There, in sad and direful confusion, dwell 
.his spiritual forces. And so long as he receives 
not " the love of the truth," so long must he abide 
in darkness. 

" For this cause," because he receives not " the 
love of the truth," God hath sent him strong delu- 
sion. Truth, like a great sun, illumines the spirit- 
ual world ; but not all choose to dwell in its light. 
Some will build them houses of error, palaces of 
sin, whence the day must be shut out, and where 
sparkle and gleam but counterfeit brilliances, 
whose deceitful radiance blends all the nicer col- 
ors of virtue and vice ; and where all is riot, revel, 
and debauch. God is not responsible, if men will 
have it so. He made them free ; and He gave 
them the day of truth ; if they prefer the darkness 
of sin and the false lights of error, it is because 
they have deliberately educated themselves to the 
evil preference. He gave them " the love of the 
truth ; " if they choose to part with it, either little 
by little, or in one great barter with the cheating 
devil, they are free to do so, but their doing so 
leads directly and certainly to their " damnation ; " 
and of this they are warned beforehand; so that 
they may be left without excuse, in the great day 



NECESSARY TO SALVATION. 327 

of judgment. If they do not suspect their danger 
nor apprehend their doom, it is their own fault 
and folly ; it is because they will not. They have 
been told of it often enough. They have been 
warned with sufficient frequency and fervor. God 
has warned them; man has warned them; their 
own consciences warned them ; and they have 
sinned against, and silenced all. In the heated 
ball-room, in the crowded theatre, in the drink- 
ing saloon, in the gambling hell, in the brothel, 
what think they of the near and horrid death ? 
And yet, have they not been warned ? So those 
who clasp to their souls a " strong delusion," 
though they may be unconscious, now, that it 
is a delusion; though they may call it the very 
truth; yet once they knew better; and they are 
deceived now, because they wish to be deceived. 
And this self-deception, this " delusion," is in 
order to their present and ultimate " damnation." 
It is the direct road to it, and the universe has no 
other. Let them leave it for a day ; and there 
is one day's pause in their progress toward Hell. 
Let them even doubt of it for a moment ; and there 
is a moment's lull in the wild whirr of the wheels 
of life, rushing down sin's dark grade to perdition. 
It is the only means for their destruction: Hell 
has no other, — is bankrupt, if deprived of this ; 
for no man is going there with his eyes open. It 
were as easy to suppose that he would walk delib- 
erately into the consuming flames of a heated fur- 
nace. True, there have been men who walked to 
such fiery death with seeming deliberateness ; but 



328 



'LOVE OF THE TRUTH " 



they were first maddened by intoxicating drugs 
and potions. And so these sinful men are drunk 
with the strong delusion which they have greedily 
swallowed, and perceive not the doom to which 
they hasten. They " believe a he," in order that 
they may "be damned," who believe "not the 
truth, but have pleasure in unrighteousness." 

The "lie" has many forms; is put up hi' 
packages and administered in doses, to suit cus- 
tomers ; it is the same essential lie ; and its 
essence is, that a man may practically reject 
Christ, who is the Truth — or, at the least, indefi- 
nitely postpone accepting Him, and escape damna- 
tion. This is the alternative of all saving truth ; 
the darkness which follows instantly when the light 
of " the love of truth " is extinguished in any soul. 
The man must believe the one thing or the other ; 
the truth, or the he. If he believe the truth, he 
will be saved ; if he believe the lie, he must be 
damned. And, having once swallowed the he, 
"there is but one antidote in the world which 
can prevent its deadly effects ; which can keep him 
out of Hell ; and, lest he should fail to use it, 
the " Physician of souls " has placed that only and 
perfect remedy in his own hands. It consists of 
a candid experiment of the efficacy of evangelical 
truth on his own heart and life ; and is best de- 
scribed in those words of Christ, "If any man 
will do God's will, he shall know of the doctrine." 
This is simply candid and fair. If I am dying, 
and one offers to me what he claims is the elixir 
of life, can I refuse to analyze and to test ? espe- 



NECESSARY TO SALVATION". 



329 



cially when my best and dearest friends assure me 
that they have tried it with the happiest results ? 
It is true, I may do so, and die; and only kin- 
dred fondness could regret my death. Thus God 
furnishes every man with the means of perfect 
certainty as to truth ; but forces none to use it ; 
while He warns all to neglect or postpone it at 
their immortal peril. Thence and thus, God is 
forever free from the imputation of any man's 
endless destruction. If he perish, he is an immor- 
tal suicide. He has stabbed, to eternal death, his 
own soul. Too indolent to " work out his own sal- 
vation," on the just and immutable terms of God, 
he has gone, like a midnight burglar, wrapped in 
his dark mantle of delusion, and broken into the 
house of Hell, seeking to steal the riches of Heaven ; 
and, if the devils take him in the act, and make 
him prisoner forever, let him not blame the friends 
who warned him, the law which prohibited the 
deed, or the kindly Magistrate who sought to win 
him to the peaceful paths of spiritual industry. 

We said the " lie " has many forms ; the poison 
of Hell is arranged in packages to suit all comers. 
One is prepared expressly for fools. So gross and 
undisguised is the death which it bears, that no 
one with a grain of sense or reason can be in- 
duced to touch it. It is labeled, " Atheism." The 
" fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." 
Another, more carefully arranged and wrapped, and 
covered with strange hieroglyphs, to make it look 
like science and learning, is labeled, in small let- 
ters, "Infidelity;" and in large, staring capitals, 



330 



LOVE OF THE. TRUTH " 



" DEISM." This is eagerly sought by vain peo- 
ple, who covet a reputation for learning and 
smartness ; but the real nature of the contents is 
known only to a few strong souls, who knew how 
to drink the whole draught, and lived in the long 
delirium of its intoxication ; albeit, some of the 
bravest and strongest among them would have 
given worlds for an antidote, when, all too late, 
they came to die. Another package, prepared 
for more sensitive, delicate, and refined people, is 
marked " Skepticism" to be taken in broken 
doses, as an alterative, and continued indefinitely. 
Its effect is a species of spiritual coquetry, in 
which the soul toys and dallies with all the forms 
of Truth and Falsehood, alternately; and finally 
sinks, unwedded and unblessed, into the arms of 
some specious " lie," and makes her bed in Hell. 
Then come preparations for the multitude, in great 
number. One is labeled, " Inconsistencies of pro- 
fessors of religion ; " and produces the strange de- 
lusion that the bad deeds of those who are mem- 
bers of the Church will excuse our own utter 
neglect of spiritual and immortal things. . It is 
surprising, what a number of persons fancy this 
particular form of the great " lie." Perhaps it is 
the most popular of all the forms of error. Then, 
for more thoughtful and intellectual people, there 
is a parcel marked " Christian Inefficiency." The 
man who takes it votes Christianity a failure. It 
has failed in its mission. It has accomplished 
nothing. The world is growing worse year by 
year. And this because his own neighborhood, or 



NECESSARY TO SALVATION. 331 

section, or country, is for the time demoralized. 
He cannot elevate himself to a position of thought 
which commands the whole Christian prospect ; 
or he cannot see the truth, when it is before his 
eyes, because he has swallowed the "He." But 
one of the most taking of all the forms of the delu- 
sion, is stamped, " Indefinite Postponement of the 
Whole Question." The wretched being who takes 
it can only utter, " To-morrow, and to-morrow, 
and to-morrow." And so saying, he dies, and is 
damned; for the natural and necessary effect of 
the believed " lie," to him, as to all the others, is 
eternal perdition. They " believe a he, that they 
may be damned. " 

The specific preparations which we have indi- 
cated are not the only current forms of that 
" strong delusion " which leads direct to Hell. 
On the contrary, they are multiform — indefinitely 
mixed and diversified. But all contain the deadly 
virus of the great " lie," and utterly poison, cor- 
rupt, and destroy that " love of the truth " which 
leads to salvation. 

And now, O, my friends and neighbors ! I 
bring you a message, warm from the heart of infi- 
nite Love, fresh from the pale lips of the bleeding 
Truth, and baptized with the deep urgency of the 
pleading Spirit ; and the message is this : "Be- 
cause ye received not the love of the truth, that 
ye might be saved ; for this cause, God hath sent 
you strong delusion, that you should believe a 
lie : that ye all may be damned who believe not 
the truth, but have pleasure in unrighteousness." 



332 



'LOVE OF THE TRUTH" 



This is God's message to us, to-day. Let us not 
cavil at the words. Are they rough ? Do they 
wound us ? " Faithful are the wounds of a friend ; " 
and God is yet enough our friend to try to save 
us, and He has taught his ministers to be enough 
our friends to try to save us. We should not, 
were we sleeping in a burning house, quarrel with 
our friend's blunt words, which roused us from 
our stupor, and urged us to exertion, while escape 
was possible ? Then let us quarrel not with these 
plain words ; let us start not at God's plain words. 
Only, let us awake, for our immortal life, and real- 
ize our danger, before it is too late ! " The poison 
of asps is under our tongue." The spirit of un- 
candor and untruth has possessed us, and lurks in 
every form and feature of the " lie " by which we 
shield ourselves from instant " repentance towards 
God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ." He lies ! 
he lies ! The devil that besets and deceives us 
lies ! He lies ! for there is a God ; and we cannot 
contend with Him, nor escape from Him. He lies ! 
for God's Word is true. He lies ! for the Truth 
stands, scourged and bleeding, before us, in the 
person of J esus Christ. He lies ! for there are holy 
men and women in the Church, whose pure lives 
are a sufficient answer to all cavils. He lies ! for 
religion is a grand success ; and is daily leavening 
the world; and the day is coming when the 
world's measure shall be full of its Divine and hal- 
lowing power. And, above all, he lies, when he 
tells us that we can continue to postpone salvation, 
and still be saved ! for well he knows that to-mor- 



NECESSARY TO SALVATION. 333 

row we may be in Hell ; and that some to-morrow 
will as certainly find us there, as we continue to 
postpone the time of our return to God. All our 
excuses and procrastinations are simply one devil- 
ish delusion and lie, in order to our damnation. 
And will we live and die the poor deluded dupes of 
a cheating devil ? Will we suffer him to pack us 
on a through train for Hell, swift as time, certain 
as death, and dark as the doom to which we hasten ? 
That " strong delusion," in which we are wrapped, 
is the coffin car of everlasting night ; the black 
hearse of the souls that haste to immortal graves. 
Leap from the platform ! leap from the windows ! 
leap for your lives ! for I tell you now, as man to 
man, as soul to soul, and as we shall front each 
other at the judgment seat of Christ, the only hope 
for you and me is in one wild spring, that shall 
wrench us away from that delusion, and commit us 
to God. 



XXIV. 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 
" Be thou faithful unto death." — Rev. ii. 10. 

Ancient Smyrna was one of the finest cities in 
all the Levant, on account of its wealth, commerce, 
and the number of its refined and cultivated citi- 
zens. It is now wasted and destroyed ; but, about 
three miles from modern Smyrna, on the elevated 
plain now occupied and almost covered by exten- 
sive cemeteries, the traveller is pointed to some 
ruinous remains of its ancient site. 

But what gives it a strong claim upon the in- 
terest of the Christian, is the fact that it was the 
seat of one of the seven apocalyptic churches of 
Asia, and the one, especially, to whose pastor and 
members was directed the Epistle of which the text 
forms a part. Its pastor and bishop was the cele- 
brated Polycarp, the human link between the 
church of the apostles and the church of the second 
century ; the pupil and friend of the beloved John ; 
who often took delight in describing, to his people 
and children, the very appearance, countenance, 
form, gestures, and voice of that holy Apostle. In 
these descriptions, he pointed to the seat which St. 
John formerly occupied (which was sacredly pre- 
served), and by his tender and affectionate elo- 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHEIST. 



335 



quence brought again the dead Apostle, in hying 
seeming before their weeping eyes. It was to this 
man, as the angel of the church at Smyrna, that 
these words, " Be thou faithful unto death," were 
particularly addressed. And truly, they had to him 
an awful significance ; for he was a martyr to his 
fidelity to Christ. And when, at the last moment, 
before the flames which were to consume him were 
kindled, the proconsul, struck with his holy and 
reyerend appearance, and desirous to saye his life, 
implored him to escape the torture by blaspheming 
the name of Christ, his reply is historic, and will 
always be grand : " Eighty and six years haye I 
seryed Him ; and He has neyer done me wrong. 
How, then, can I blaspheme my Lord, who has 
. sayed me?" He resisted unto blood. He was 
" faithful unto death." 

The thought in the text is not merely a thought, 
fossilized in words, and cold, and hard, and dry : 
it is surrounded by a subtile and yital aroma, like 
the sweet odor of a flower which penetrates the 
senses and woos our approach to gaze upon its 
beauty, to handle and pluck it, if we will, and 
place it in the heart's ruddy urn ; where it may 
bloom foreyer, filling the apartment of our liyes 
with fragrance and gladness. Thus it woos us 
to-day; and thus gently and sweetly led, do we 
approach and look upon this beautiful theme : 
" Christian Fidelity." 

We have here a duty. Let us consider it : " Be 
thou faithful imto death." In this case, fidelity is, 
of course, subjective in the Christian, and finds its 



336 FAITHFULNESS TO CHEIST. 

object in Christ: "Be thou faithful unto death, 
to Me." Christian fidelity is fidelity to Christ. 
Fidelity to Christ is fidelity to the principles of 
Christ; and these will be found, upon the last 
analysis, to consist of two, truth and love. Truth, 
again, exists in two great forms, purity and hon- 
esty. Purity is subjective — honesty objective. 
Purity relates to character — honesty to conduct. 
Purity is simple, whole, cannot be grasped and an- 
alyzed — honesty is tangible, overt, easily classified, 
arranged, understood. Purity is the principle — 
honesty the product. Purity, in the abstract, we 
cannot conceive. It is above us. It is beyond us. 
It is Divine. It is of the essence of God, It is, 
like Himself, unknown, absolute, infinite. We 
name it, we revere it, we cannot know it. We 
make white an emblem of purity ; because we can 
only conceive of purity in the concrete. We say, 
" pure as the snow : " the thought cannot go fur- 
ther : it cannot reach the simple abstraction. And 
if it could ; if we might, in thought, separate from 
the snow-flake hardness, coldness, form, and color 
— all those properties by which it arrests our at- 
tention — we should then have an abstraction, not 
of purity, but of a snow-flake. We repeat, and em- 
phasize, purity, in its essence, eludes us : we can- 
not grasp it. It is too fine, subtile, and ethereal 
for the touch of spirits confined in the coarse bar- 
riers of sense. 

Of moral purity we attempt a kind of definition, 
when we term it innocence — freedom from guilt 
and sin ; but this is merely negative and defective 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



337 



purity. We say innocent as a child, and think we 
have said a great deal — almost all that can be 
said when we typify innocence with childhood ; 
but the child has vicious and unholy tempers, and 
is far from being absolutely even imiocent. But 
the purity of virtue — of perfect virtue — is some- 
thing far higher ; something of which we cannot 
conceive ; save as it is revealed to us, personified, 
in the life of Him who was, at once, the Son of 
Man and the Son of God. In attempting to ob- 
tain even a faint gliinpse of the purity of this 
matchless Character, the saintliest human soul 
should put off its shoes from off its feet, as feel- 
ing that it stands upon holy ground ; for such a 
view can only be obtained by looking into the 
very heart of Christ ; a human heart, it is true, 
but shrined in Divinity, guarded by a God. 
Here, the intolerable Glory pains and blinds even 
the eagle eye of intellect — we can only see by 
glimpses. Here we behold every human and sen- 
sual appetite, propensity, and passion, in all their 
native force, held in leash, like tamed tigers, led 
harmless and innocuous, by the hand of perfect 
Virtue. This is all that we can see and know of 
the purity of Christ. For its celestial sources — 
the fountains whence the "golden bowl" of his 
being was filled, perpetually, with this Divine 
effluence, they lie too remote for the ken of any 
earthly spirit : they flow from the everlasting hills 
of Glory. 

To be faithful to the purity of Christ, is to study 
it and imitate it as closely as possible; to seek, 
22 



338 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



always, to be pure as lie was pure, on earth ; to 
seek, constantly, spiritual perfection ; to " follow 
holiness," without which none of us shall see Him 
as He is, and finally be like Him. I do not bid 
you to profess purity, holiness, perfection — O no. 
He did not do that, and you need not. You may 
safely follow his example here, as in all things ; 
and while you seek perfect purity, with all your 
heart, never boast, to the world, that you have 
found it ; for, if you do, the world will not believe 
you ; and you will thus bring reproach upon the 
purity of your Master. 

Forth from this fountain of purity, in the soul 
of Christ, issued all the crystal streams of his peer- 
less honesty. These broke from his heart, and 
flowed into his life, through three great gates ; 
the gate of pantomime, the gate of speech, and the 
gate of action. Through the gate of pantomime ; 
all his smiles were Virtue's own — all his frowns 
were the meed of Vice. He knew nothing of the 
sycophant's grin : He was a stranger to the con- 
tagion of popular reprobation. He had a hearty 
contempt, as every true man has, for the popular 
verdict, because it is commonly wrong. This 
contempt He did not take the pains to hide. 
When Jerusalem would welcome Him with hosan- 
nas, and crown Him King, He gave them the with- 
ering rebuke of riding meekly and humbly upon 
an ass. From a thousand matchless steeds, and 
gilded chariots, which were doubtless offered Him, 
on that day, He turned meekly to " a colt, the foal 
of an ass." In all his life, nor eye, nor feature, 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



339 



nor expression, nor gesture, was ever untrue to 
truth. Yet, within these limits, there must have 
lain an unexampled power of expression. He 
must have had the most mobile face that God 
ever cast in a human mould. From the calm maj- 
esty which slept, like a Divine seal, upon all his 
features, in repose, we may imagine them break- ' 
ing into innumerable expressions of tenderness, or 
rebuke, according to the variously diversified char- 
acters of the men, women, and children whom He 
met, and whom he read at a glance, to the heart's 
core. Of the unequaled power of these expres- 
sions, we can form but a faint conception. The sin- 
gle look which broke the heart of his apostate dis- 
ciple, and sent him out to spend the night in bitter 
weeping, and his whole after life in faithful service 
of that Lord whom then he was abjuring and 
cursing, may be taken as significant, in part, of 
the wondrous truth and power of the looks and 
gestures of Christ. 

Fidelity to Christ is following Christ's example, 
and wearing an honest face and mien : having no 
politic smiles for the unworthy, and no frowning 
or contemptuous indifference for the unfortunate. 

Through the gate of Christ's speech, flowed an- 
other pearly stream of truth. His words were 
revelations of truth : He was the true u Teacher 
come from God." His words were living testimo- 
nies to the truth : He was " the faithful and true 
Witness." His words had the simplicity of truth :. 
there was nothing artful in his speech : He spoke 
in language that a little child might understand. 



340 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



His words had the dignity of truth: there was 
no impassioned advocacy of creeds — no wild and 
fervid declamation on his lips — no burning appeals 
to fiery passions in the hearts of his hearers. His 
words had all the directness of truth : there was no 
craftiness of speech in Him, even when dealing with 
* his mortal enemies : He still " only spoke right on." 
His words had all the boldness of truth : He never 
kept it back through fear of producing dissatisfac- 
tion, opposition, enmity in his hearers. There 
was no cowardly suppression, or glossing over of 
the truth, because it was unpopular. He did not 
mince his words, and so shear them of their force. 
He called the Pharisees what they were, "hypo- 
crites " and " vipers," and denounced against them 
" the damnation of hell." These were the un- 
worthy rich and great. He did not scruple to de- 
nounce them ; but He stooped, with the tender- 
ness of a Divine compassion, and his voice was 
gentler than a woman's, when He spoke to peni- 
tent sinners, though publicans and harlots were of 
the number. He spoke the truth, as no other 
man ever spoke it. 

Would you be faithful to Christ, follow his ex- 
ample here. Absolve your soul from the cowardly 
conventionalities of life, and dare to utter the hon- 
est thought that is in it, without stopping to in- 
quire what influence the utterance may have on 
your own fortune, or on the good or ill opinion of 
others concerning you. 

Through the diamond gate of action, flowed the 
purity of Christ, and crystalized in honest deeds ; 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



341 



Heaven's gift of jewels to the bride of its princely 
Son ; which she shall wear upon her brow, and 
neck, and bosom evermore, — until the day — the 
bridal morning of the universe — when the royal 
Bridegroom shall lead her, in triumph and glory, to 
his Father's throne. Jesus Christ was an honest 
Man, in a higher sense than the poet ever fained 
when he said, — 

"An honest man 's the noblest work of God ; " 

for He was faultlessly and immaculately honest : 
without error as without sin. He was honest as a 
laboring man ; meeting all his filial obligations to 
industry, and toiling patiently at his reputed fath- 
er's trade, and for the benefit of his parents, until 
He was thirty years of age ; a long minority and 
a late majority, the fast children of this age will 
say ; and an example which they would not care to 
imitate. Then, when He took up his great task, 
as a public Teacher, He entered upon it in the same 
spirit. He forsook father and mother, home and 
friends, and devoted Himself to that one work with 
calm and unremitting energy. He forgot hunger 
and thirst. He said, " It is my meat and drink, to 
do the will of Him that sent Me." He rebuked all 
shams, stripped them of their specious disguises, 
and held them up, in naked and native hideousness, 
to the reprobation of all honest souls. With the 
scorn of a God upon his lip and eye, and the 
might of a giant in his hand, He scourged from the 
temple of his Father, the vile and polluting hordes 
that had long defiled it under the sanction of a 
corrupt and venal priesthood. He was the fearless 



342 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



Friend and advocate of the poor, the down-trodden, 
and the oppressed. He set a little child above the 
doctors of the law and his own ambitious disciples, 
and bade them learn of him, and be like him, on 
pain of never entering the Kingdom of God. He 
stood in the festal throng, and drank of the festal 
cup, in lofty scorn of all shallow and hypocritical 
asceticism. He brought upon Himself, with fear- 
less indifference, the charge of gluttony and wine- 
bibbing. He never seemed or feigned ; He always 
lived and was. Such a true life, in such a false 
world, could not be popular. It made Him en- 
emies ; who hated, maligned, and persecuted Him 
unto death. Wouldst thou be faithful to Christ ? 
Go, thou, and do likewise. Love the truth, and 
do it; love the right and espouse it. Hate the 
wrong and condemn it, and oppose it ; though it 
be wealthier and greater and mightier than thou ; 
though it overcome and destroy thee ; let thy last 
utterance and thy death be the sign and token of 
the truth, " Be thou faithful unto death " to the 
truth of Christ. 

We said fidelity to Christ is fidelity to the prin- 
ciples of Christ. We said the principles of Christ 
are two, truth and love. We have noticed the first ; 
let us consider the last. Love, like truth, exists in 
two great forms, benevolence and beneficence ; or, 
according to the etymology of the terms, good- 
willing and good-doing. Benevolence, again, is 
subjective — beneficence, objective. Benevolence 
is the abstract — beneficence, the concrete of love. 
Benevolence is simple ; its essence, inscrutable ; its 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



343 



sources hidden. Like purity, it is of the essence of 
God ; and we cannot know it. All true love, — all 
love worthy of the name, — all which is not in- 
stinctive and brutal — in its last analysis, is be- 
nevolence. All in parental, in filial, in conjugal, 
in fraternal affection, that is worthy and immortal, 
may be reduced to benevolence. We wonder that 
a mother clings to an unnatural child — a wife to 
an unworthy husband. How shallow ! The more 
utter the unworthiness, the finer the play and the 
grander the energies of this ethereal and heavenly 
benevolence. With regard to this principle, there 
are two grand epochs in the earthly life of man ; 
the first is his birth ; when, dipping his finger in 
the chalice of the skies, the angel of his soul lets 
fall a single drop of this Divine Essence into his 
heart, which flows out into all those channels 
which we term the natural affections ; the second is 
his new birth, or conversion to God, or heavenly 
baptism ; when the Holy Spirit takes Himself the 
office, from the hands of the ministering angel, and 
pours into the soul the abundant sources of a uni- 
versal benevolence. It is through this fine medium 
— the prism of the skies — that that soul looks 
out upon a new world of beauty and bloom and 
gladness. Hence flow his tears of happiness ; hence 
glow his brow and cheek and lip ; hence break his 
shouts of rejoicing. The heavy tide of natural and 
even animal life is stirred by this heavenly elixir, 
which is poured into his heart from the hand of 
God, and breaks into a thousand ebullitions of gen- 
tle or passionate joy. Of course, we understand, 



344 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



these Divine gifts, no more than those of the 
purely intellectual or physical powers, are inalien- 
able. Man is the sovereign receiver and controller 
of all the gifts of God. If he will, he may paralyze, 
by vicious excesses, all his physical powers ; if he 
will he may waste and shrivel and wreck his in- 
tellect ; and so, if he will, he may dilute, adul- 
terate, and poison the fountains of benevolence 
which God opens in his soul. We see this illus- 
trated every day — how an education and lif e of 
fashionable frivolity may poison the sources of nat- 
ural affection, until the mother shall forget and 
cruelly neglect her own child ; and how the once 
warm convert to the love of Christ may grow luke- 
warm, and cold, and selfish, and even vile. 

Of the degree and quality of these benevolent 
endowments, there is an indefinite variety in hu- 
man nature, which accords with all the analogies 
of life ; but nowhere, again, save in the character of 
Christ, do we behold it in the fullness of perfection. 
Christ was the human and tangible expression of 
his Father's love. " God so loved the world that 
He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth on Him might not perish, but have ever- 
lasting life." Christ was God's love voicing itself 
in humanity. Christ was the caress of Heaven to 
Earth ; the kiss of the Divine Father to the prodi- 
gal, but penitent and returning World. Christ 
was Divine Love in human form and seeming. 
Talk about analyzing and understanding it ! The 
very angels blindly and wonderingly envy it ! The 
princely intelligences of Glory, ripened for untold 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHEIST. 



345 



ages in the very atmosphere of infinite Truth and 
Love, desire, in vain, to look into it. "We can only 
helplessly repeat, — as if repetition might aggra- 
vate our conception of the inconceivable, — Christ 
was a personified Benevolence. 

Would we be faithful to the Love of Christ ? 
let us study, in Him, and cultivate in our own 
hearts the principle of benevolence. Let us aim, 
always, at perfect benevolence. Let us strive for 
it with all our ransomed powers. But again, we 
say, let us never boast, to the world, that we have 
obtained it ; that we are made perfect in love ; for 
He did not do that ; and we need not ; and the 
world will not believe us, if we do ; and we shall 
thus bring reproach upon the love of Christ. 

Forth, again, from these infinite sources, in the 
heart of Christ, flowed, in three grand streams, the 
beneficence of Christ ; beneficence to the bodies, to 
the minds, and to the souls of men. To their 
bodies : He fed the famishing multitudes ; He filled, 
with luxury, the cup of their social enjoyments. 
He healed their diseases ; gave sight to the blind, 
speech to the dumb, ears to the deaf, and feet to 
the lame. He raised their dead, from the bed, from 
the bier and from the grave, and restored them, 
living, to their embraces. He taught the giving of 
secret alms ; by which the charities of the kind- 
hearted were diverted from those public and osten- 
tatious channels by which they are mulcted of 
their chief value, or loaded with those humiliations 
by which they are rendered bitter and degrading to 
the souls of the poor. By this one act, it were 



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FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



easy to show, He more than doubled the revenues 
of the poor to the end of the world, in every coun- 
try whither his religion comes. And if, by this 
one act, He doubled them, by his precepts of uni- 
versal kindliness and brotherhood He multiplied 
that product a hundred fold. True, He was not 
rich, and He left no princely moneyed charity to do 
Him honor ; no grand eleemosynary foundation to 
reverence his name and sound his praises after He 
was dead ; but He laid in human hearts the deep 
foundations of every charitable edifice that salutes 
the skies to-day, or that ever will be reared on 
this earth. 

Would you be faithful to the Love of Christ, fol- 
low his example here ; and while you give, of your 
poverty or abundance, all that you can spare to the 
suffering poor, seek also to inspire your children, 
your friends, all with whom you have influence, 
with principles of the largest beneficence. 

Another stream of beneficence flowed from the 
heart of Christ to the minds of men. " He taught 
them as One having authority," the authority of 
perfect knowledge and wisdom. Astonished by 
his wisdom, well might his contemporaries say, 
" Never man spake like this Man." He taught * 
them the principles of a higher and grander civili- 
zation than the world had ever dreamed of before ; 
— a civilization of love — a communism of affec- 
tion. His Gospel was the Gospel of peace. It 
was with the hammer of the truths He taught, and 
on the anvil of the ages, that the swart soul -smith 
who toils in the brain-shop was to beat all "swords 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



into ploughshares and all spears into pruning- 
hooks." We boast of our civilization — of the 
march of mind in this wondrous age ; let us do our- 
selves the justice to remember that it is a Christian 
civilization ; that the powers of the human intellect 
have not only been quickened to the tremendous 
strides of modern progress by the fine and health- 
ful stimuli which reside, essentially, in the teach 
ings of Christ, but those energies have also been 
held in check from that fierce motion which pre- 
ludes destruction, by the same conservative influ- 
ence. Christ did not only, by his teachings, pour 
upon the human mind a flood of fight ; He also 
quickened and developed its faculties by furnishing 
it with motives of superhuman power and per- 
petual force ; and then, to control and balance all, 
He set over it the fearful expectancy of a judgment 
to come. 

Wouldst thou be faithful to Christ's Love here ? 
Do something for the world's mind. Think, write, 
speak. Fling abroad the energies of thy God-given, 
illumined, and quickened intellect upon the broad 
expanse of the world's thought. Thou — even thou 
— mayest think some thought which will never 
die, but live to bless the world long after thou art 
dead. 

But the last life-stream of beneficence flowed 
from the heart of Christ to bless" the souls of men. 
They were perishing, and He redeemed them ; 
they were dying, and He gave them the precious 
drops of his own great life. That stream ex- 
hausted the heart of Christ — drained the very 



348 



FAITHFULNESS TO CHRIST. 



sources of his being ; but nought recked He, in 
his sublime self-sacrifice, so it saved the immortal 
life of men. Their frail bark, wave-tossed and 
tempest-driven, was drifting upon the black rocks 
of eternal night, when Christ, the Watcher, lighted, 
with the flames of Divine justice, his own heart ; 
that the sight of this ghastly beacon might scare 
them back to safety ; and that, by this awful 
Light, they might see to trim their sails and point 
their prow towards Heaven. And so the purple 
life-stream of Christ's beneficence flowed on till it 
broke, in bloody foam, on the Mount of Crucifixion, 
and darkened the heavens with its ruby spray. He 
was " faithful unto death " to thee ; be thou 
" faithful unto death " to Him. Wilt thou ? Then 
love the souls of men as He loved them. Labor, 
pray, work, give, suffer, die, if need be, for their 
salvation. Catch the flame of love from the heart 
of Christ, and suffer it to consume the life. So 
shalt thou, too, be " faithful unto death." 

Note how the two paths, the truth of Christ and 
the love of Christ, both point to death as the final 
seal of truth and love. Fidelity to Christ is readi- 
ness to die, if need be, alike for the truth of Christ 
and the love of Christ. " Be thou thus faithful 
unto death," and He will give thee " a crown of 
life." 



f3 



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